The Second Warrior
by AssassinAuthor
Summary: "I think we have a lot more in common then you believe." said Gregor. Five months have passed since Gregor left the Underland. But events come to pass that drag their destinies together once along with some new friends with interesting pasts. EDIT: This story is currently in revision. I AM CURRENTLY USING NANOWRIMO TO COMPLETE IT.
1. Chapter 1

***EDIT* Hi, I am going through each chapter, cleaning them up, and republishing them. I am upset with the level of work they are at now. My absence will be remarked upon at a later time, preferably with the update of a new chapter. **

**Hello, please read the author's note at the bottom.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Underland Chronicles. Suzanne Collins does.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: The Torturing Nightmares<strong>

"Come on, Gregor. We almost have him_," Ripred growled._

_Gregor blew an annoyed huff of breath. He knew that the gnawer was right; the two were close to cornering the object of their pursuit. He was just as observant as Ripred._

_Gregor put Ripred's insults far from his mind and concentrated on dodging the messy remnants that he was racing through. However, it did not escape Ripred's notice that Gregor was far inferior to the rat at sprinting through the obstacles. _

_Ripred yelled to the ever-falling behind Gregor_, "That idiot bat of yours would have been a lot of help to you."

"Why did you tell Ares not to come? I could have searched in the air and left you on the ground to run around all this debris from the starshade field!" _Gregor yelled back, angry that Ripred insulted him. He kept tripping over trampled ant carcasses that were splattered with harmless purple goop._

"How was I supposed to know how incompetent you are?! I mean, you can't even keep pace with a crawler." _The gnawer's enunciated words were true.__ As a massive wave of thousands of crawlers swarmed from behind him and the gnawer, they overcame Gregor with ease. An out of place in the swarm of brown and black creatures, a blob of pale pink bobbed in the corner of Gregor's peripheral vision. When he turned to look, he stopped quickly, stumbling to a halt. Out of nowhere, his younger sister Boots appeared, riding on the back of a familiar cockroach with a bent antenna._

"Boots what are you doing here on Temp?!" _Gregor questioned through the never ceasing flood of crawlers._"I thought I left you with Duclet! You need to get out of here! It is dangerous!"

_Boots, who was suddenly her two-year-old self, screamed gleefully,_"Ge-go, play ball wif Temp and me!"

_From somewhere unseen, the giant hisser Frill reared out of nowhere on her hind legs displaying the multicolored ruff framing the giant head. Frill opened her monstrous mouth and a rubber ball shot out covered with hisser spit and hit Gregor squarely on his chest._

_Gregor jarred as the setting changed. He was no longer chasing after Ripred in the ruined field of starshade, but now found himself freefalling over the edge of one of the boats that had been taken on the journey to kill the Bane. With a thump, Gregor landed on the back of a large black and white striped bat, Nike._

"Do not fret, Oh Mighty Warrior, the Princess of the Fliers has willingly saved you from your ultimate destruction." _She announced pride swelled her voice making it loud enough to be heard across all of Regalia, in a manner that seemed out of character for the normally humble flyer. She swept him up to a cave in side of a long, dark, rocky tunnel. It was dank and smelt of rotten eggs._

"Egghh,_" Gregor moaned as the sulfurous liquid dripped down the walls. He needed to get away from here. The fluid was horrible and could bring disease if one was exposed to it for too long. Gregor had to get back home: back to Regalia. With his thoughts, Gregor found the ground melting away from his body, leaving him erect within the air for a few seconds before the sensation of falling formed in his stomach._

_Plummeting, he twisted and turned in the air so he would land face down on Ares. Gregor could reach a glimpse of the sharply jagged cliffs and rocks racing towards him form the bottom of the gorge. He wished that Ares would hurry to catch him. He waited and worried as the distance from the sharp rocks waiting to impale him halved._

"Ares!" _Gregor called. "_Ares, where are you? Don't let me die!" _With the last word, it hit him._

_Die. Dying. Dead. That is why Ares had not saved him. ARES WAS DEAD. And Gregor was soon to join him._

"NOOOOOOO!" _Screamed Gregor as his chest split in a million pieces, coming in contact with the rocks._

It was just a dream. It had been another Torturing Nightmare.

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><p><strong>Hello, I am AssassinAuthor.<strong>

**I want to say I will always have the author's notes at the bottom. This is a short chapter, I know, But I will try to update once a week. I will not beg for reviews, but they are nice and I will consider everything said in them. Plus, I will update faster :)**

**Thanks for reading,**

**~AssassinAuthor **


	2. Chapter 2

*EDIT* Hey again, so I'm running these past my beta and slowly immersing myself back into this world. The edits should continue for quite some time, however a new chapter is not yet set for a neither publish date…Nor is it completed yet.

Disclaimer: Owned By Suzanne Collins, not AssassinAuthor.

**Chapter Two: Fears Of A Mother**

Darting up from his sleep, soaked in a sweat that was insignificant in cooling his flaming temperature and racing pulse, there was little Gregor could do to stop the nightmare from running it's course through his mind. Five months had not been enough to stop the horrid recollections and remembrances that frequently interrupted his sleep.

Every morning he would wake up screaming in fear and pain from the images of terror and grief that the nightmare had planted in his sleeping subconscious.

Every time he would climb into bed for the night, he would visibly cringe when sleep pulled at his mind and body with its ever-persistent tendrils, of fear for the coming horrors that would torture him at night and continue to haunt him in the daylight.

Regardless of his location, insignificant and minute details would trigger his memories, causing faces and words to be blocked from reaching his mind. He would clutch the back of a chair, the wall or anything stable to keep him in this reality. It was a meager attempt to keep himself from disappearing into the depths of his dark mind and staying there. His family and friends always took notice of this. His sister, Lizzie would give a shriek and run out the room. His dad would sit and wait it out with his eyes trained on his eldest child, trying to telepathically communicate strength to Gregor. Grace, his mother, would have multiple reactions to fit every situation, ranging from quiet, desperate, teary pleading, to screaming herself hoarse. But his youngest sister, Boots, was the only one who could pull him from these episodes.

Boots would approach her trembling brother with caution and tug at his shirt hem. This managed to distract him for a brief moment when he would be able to pull through. With only complete gentleness, he would bend down and hold his arms out invitingly to the precious little being that was his sister. Boots would accept and climb into his embrace, and Gregor would lift her up and clutch her close while she patted the frail person that was her brother, whispering childish words of caring and love into his ear. This drew him out of his mental attack and he cradled her.

Once Gregor calmed and returned to himself, he would pull Boots away and look into her sweet face, and whisper, "Thank you." The young child would reply by looking knowingly into those tormented eyes, and muttering in her innocent toddler voice a phrase in which Gregor regretted her ever learning. "You put them here," Which was accompanied by a gentle pat to his heart. This would comfort him, in the way nothing else ever could.

After the first occurrence of this, Grace came up to her son and took him into her motherly clasp. Gregor tried to let the child in him show. However, he could not. Wars and killing had made him grow up too fast; leaving his childhood behind before he could accept the loss of it. Gregor pulled away, out of the arms that had continuously been a source of comfort for him. His mother frowned as Gregor pulled away. As Grace looked into his face to see his motives, she saw pain, heartache, and longing in the eyes of her thirteen year old son.

Confused by this and not knowing how to respond to Gregor's dropped gaze, Grace scolded him. Firmly, she said, "Time up here will do you good. You will live on without . . . them." She patted him on the cheek and smoothed out the collar of his shirt, looking down, avoiding his eyes, which hovered above her due to Gregor's recent growth spurt. But her son did not allow her to touch him for long. He pushed her hands aside, brushing her wrists, and strode from the room.

The women did not intend to cause the hurt that she did in this phrase; she only spoke it because of the fear and torment living in her soul. Grace had much fear; fear for her mother-in-law's failing health, fear for her husband's trembling and shaking hands, fear for her kids, fear for what they had seen, fear of where they had gone, fear for what they had done, fear for them to return there and never come home.

It had been five months since the worries started. Five months since her oldest child had slept peacefully through the night. Five months since her son had killed. Five months since he had almost been killed. Five months in which he would have rather been somewhere else. Somewhere with pale-skinned and purple-eyed people living. Somewhere with oversized animals. Somewhere where war was more common then peace. Somewhere where she almost died. Somewhere that haunted Gregor, and yet he craved oh-so-badly. Somewhere that had stolen her family time after time. Somewhere that still pulled them, not letting them return to the life of normalcy she used to possess. Somewhere called the Underland. Somewhere that birthed the Fears of a Mother.

Hello,

Here is the second chapter. I hope everyone likes it. I promise my chapters will be more interesting real soon. And I will update in about a week.

Thank you CodeNameGibs, for reviewing.

And like I said, I don't need them but, reviews are nice. Very nice. And I mean seriously one? It is getting sort of lonely. Give it a friend please? It will be happy and so will I.

Next chapter will have some dialogue. I promise. Bear with me; once it gets rolling it will be worth it.

Thanks,

~AssassinAuthor


	3. Chapter 3

*EDIT* Thanks VotumAstrum…you rock. I hope you guys reread this, or new readers, I hope you realize…I started this three years ago…I've become a better writer since…now I ramble and digress. I like how I cleaned this one up. Again, thanks to Votum.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Underland Chronicles. If I did, what use would FanFiction be to me?

**Chapter 3: What Bonds A Brother And Sister**

Gregor swung his legs out of bed and somehow untangled his sheets, which had become twisted and constricting from his thrashing around while he dreamt. He was covered in a shock-induced sweat and his legs shook slightly with weakness, but not enough for them to give out and plummet him to the carpeted floor. Using the wall for support, he unsteadily made his way to the bathroom next door. He used a cloth drenched in cold water to wipe his face and neck, diminishing the heat from his skin.

Feeling slightly better, he pulled himself up onto the counter even though it was occupied by the sink; there was enough room for him to squeeze himself next to it and allow himself to ponder his thoughts in the stark darkness of the night, with routine bursts of car headlights carried in through the window from the city that never sleeps.

"_The dreams are still coming,_" thought Gregor. A voice full of cynicism, laced with sarcasm reprimanded him. _"Of course they still come! You fought in a war; you were mortally wounded and almost lost your light! Repeatedly! Anyone with a sane mind would have terrifying nightmares for the rest of their life and yet you expect them to vanish after three months!" _

He sighed and ran a hand through the lengthening dark hair on his head. Pushing the unpleasant thoughts from his mind, he searched for something better to contemplate. His thoughts fell upon his nightmare.

It struck him that he often viewed his loved ones in dire situations during these nightly visions. Tonight it had been Boots. The night before, the half-lander, Hazard had taunted his sleep. And the torment that came in the darkness before the last contained the dead sent-seer, Twitchtip. Blood was rushing out of her damaged nose that once detected so much detail all through scent. She had been lying motionless in a pool of her dark blood as her heart pumped the one thing that kept her living from her body.

The night terror of late had evolved with a separate twist that had never been experienced before. Gregor had fallen-twice. During the first occurrence, his good friend Princess Nike of the Flyers had caught him. Even though the comment of saving him from his ultimate destruction was odd since the flyer was not one to boast, and contained not such a trait in her personality, it must have occurred due to the fact that Gregor's dreams tended to be rather unrealistic.

To continue with the unrealistic aspects of the dream; the ground had melted away once Nike had brought him to safety, which was a rather common event in his nightmares. However, what was even worse was he recognized where he had been. It was the cavern in the rat's land where he had rescued his father and took his first leap in the Underland. Even worse, he had fallen into the pit where he thought he would die. However, Ares had saved him. The first time the black flier had saved Gregor and leaft his bond Henry, the egotistical traitor and cousin to the heir to the throne, to fall to his death.

Thoughts of Ares saving Gregor's life countless times filled his mind, pushing aside other worries. In a slide-show like fashion, he replayed the memories. _"Why couldn't I save him?" __thought__Gregor__. "He did so much for me, and all I did to repay him was drag him along with me to kill Bane, but he ended up dead instead of me. I should have di-"_

"Gregor?" His thoughts were interrupted by a tentative voice whispering his name. "Is that you, Gregor?"

"Yeah, Lizzie, it is me," the yellow beam from a flashlight swung across the bathroom, reflected briefly on the mirror and landed to rest on the center of Gregor's chest. The sudden burst of light sent him blinking his eyes repeatedly. He had not turned on the bathroom light, relying on echolocation to "see" his surroundings. The thin face of his nine-year-old sister stood out from behind the pillar of light aimed at his chest.

"Are you okay?" She asked her brother anxiously, shifting on her feet and pulling on the bottom of her pajama shirtsleeve to cover her hand holding the flashlight.

"I am fine. I just had a bad dream," Gregor replied. Averse to scaring her, he did not indicate that this nightmare had been worse than the ones in the past. Instead, he slid off the counter and onto the floor, planting himself in front of the cabinet under the sink. Lizzie moved forward and sat down across from him, leaning against the pale white wall, their toes pointed at each other.

"Was it about them?" Lizzie asked, concern threaded in her question. She brushed hair from her eyes.

"Yeah. It is always about them," Gregor confided in her. She was one of the few, perhaps the only, person who he could tell all his feelings and thoughts to. She did not judge him, or criticize him that he should pay more attention to life in New York. She took it all in and observed it. She comprehended it with a clear mind. She also understood what he was going through. Lizzie lost her friends when their mom dragged the family back to the overland. They would share sympathies in the midst of night when the family slept on unaware of the private bonding occurring within the walls of the apartment.

"I miss the underland, Gregor. You know that I want Grandma to be healthy, too. Nevertheless, as soon as she is healthy, we both know that Mom will pack us up and move to Virginia. But I'd rather stay here, even though it is painful for us to be so close. I like the hope and dreams of us going back down there, despite them being just hopes and dreams." She finished with sadness on her features, tipping her head further back against the wall. Lizzie stood the flashlight up and watched the pattern it displayed on the ceiling, concealing the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"I know, Lizzie, me too. Grandma will probably be okay soon, but too frail to move. Mom might keep us here until we can decide what to do. And you know Dad is on our side. He has friends in the Underland too. We will find a way." Gregor did not specify what they will find a way to do. He reached across and patted his younger sister's knee, which was drawn close to her chest. "I promise, Lizzie. I promise."

Lizzie crawled over to her older brother and hugged him. He wrapped his shaky little sister in a gentle hug, folding his hands protectively on top of her shoulder. They sat there, both lost in their thoughts of the place they call home. They stayed there all night, drifting off to sleep, not even realizing they were cuddled together on the cold tile floor. Their thoughts were remained on their past. Their thoughts remained on What Bonds a Brother and Sister.

Hello,

I hope this was longer and more satisfying then the first two chapters. If not you can tell me in a review. *Hint Hint*

Thank you to CodeNameGibs and theunexpected for reviewing.

Warning, next chapter will involve some new characters.

Now, I might be a little late updating next chapter because my basketball season starts and I have to take a test to get into Algebra 1. Seriously I don't start school until September 7 and I have to take a math test. But I have been studying super hard all summer but I have to work even harder now. Enough about my life. I hope that everyone that reads this can give me a bit of inspiration in the form of a review because I am writing five chapters ahead of this and I'm having a bit of trouble. So help me out.

Thank you all and as a general warning, don't let your older brothers throw pointy sticks at you. When you get cut by them they sting like heck.

~AssassinAuthor


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Well, actually, Stephany, Lynn, Thomas, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews and the whole plot is mine. Basically this chapter. Nothing else. **

**WARNING: NEW CHARACTERS ARE ADDED. **

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><p>Chapter Four: Please Be Strong, Stephany Lee Andrews<p>

Stephany Lee Andrews stared glumly out through the condensation from her warm breath on her second level suburban bedroom window. Whiping it off with the knitted green sleeve of her green sweater, she gazed over her back yard filled with pines, melting snow and the remnants of last night's bonfire in the fire pit she and her father had built when she was eight. She had just recently turned 13. A teenager like her older sister, Lynn. With a huff, she turned around pulling her gaze form her wintry Washington back yard.

Her room was empty and bare, in anticipation for the coming move. She, Stephany Lee Andrews, a thirteen-year-old girl that had lived in the country for her whole life, was moving to the famous, loud, crowded, and polluted, New York City. Stephany had never even been to a city, aside from the small town where the public school she went to was. There was not much in the town, a few clothing stores, a local market, the post office, police headquarters, one theater cinema and seasonal ice skating rink. The rest was a few veterinarians, doctors and dentistry offices next to the only resource for books, the library and minor family owned and operated restaurants. It was a common town with little distinguishable about it. However, it was home and Stephany loved it with her whole heart. All her family and friends lived there. Everyone she loved, Stephany would leave them behind. All because of an accident that almost caused her death. Nevertheless, she was leaving and no matter how much she pleaded, argued, and threatened, her parents were not changing their minds, the decision was final.

Stephany pushed herself away from the wall she was leaning on and walked around her barren room. Pointing to a corner she thought, "My bookcase was there, and next to it was my desk. My dresser sat right over that faded spot on the rug. In front of it was my bed, and next to that was my lamp." Stephany continued in a similar fashion until she reached the closet.

The doors to her once cluttered closet were mirrors on hinges that slid back and forth. Taped to the mirrors were hundreds of photographs, notes and school papers. Memories, comments, quotes, report cards and tests were taped or suspended by magnets. There was barely any space to see you entire reflection, but that was the way it had always been. And that was the way Stephany liked it.

She had collected these remembrants over time and portrayed them there for her to glance at whenever she wanted. It was her favorite part of her room. As long as it was up, it remained Stephany's room. Until now, the day of the move, the day she had to let go and hand her room over to some other kid who would decorate it in their own unique fashion, forgetting all the memories that it held for Stephany.

Slowly, Stephany pealed the taped down corner of a photo of her and her two best friends, careful for it not to rip. Moving to the next one she thought, "I remember that day; we went to the movies and out to eat for Lynn's 12th birthday. I had turned ten a week later. " Such thoughts filled Stephany's mind until she reached a recent photo that have been taken two weeks earlier. It struck her so hard she could not move from the spot, mesmerized by the laughing faces and happy outlook. She was so shocked all she could think was, "I wish I was there now."

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><p>Lynn was wondering what was taking her thirteen-year-old sister so long. All she needed to do was pack up a few last things. Lynn stared down at her old backpack by her feet. It was the last bag she had to pack and had finished that hours ago.<p>

"Lynn, what is taking your sister so long?" her mother asked, as if it was Lynn's fault that Stephany was not ready yet.

"I don't know, Mom. I'll go check on her." Lynn said bounding up the familiar wooden stairs, as she had so many times before. As she headed to Stephany's room, she paused in the bathroom to make sure her stitches were in check.

The dark line of stitches, which stood out from her pale skin, began below her left temple and tucked its way under a high check bone to finish at a small chin. Her shiny blonde hair was braided before being twisted into a bun on the back of her head. Lynn's side bangs hung over her soft grey eyes framed by dark lashes.

Lynn checked he stitches seeing if any popped from talking. She was not supposed to open her mouth wide because the stitches could stretch and pop. Satisfied that they were as they were before, she continued to Stephany's room down the hall.

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><p>When a soft knock landed on her door, Stephany realized she had been staring at the picture for a while, memesorized by the image. The visitor opened the white door with out an answer and started into the room. Stephany saw her older sister, Lynn leaning against the doorway casually in a pair of light grey skinny jeans that matched her eyes and a tight fitting, long sleeved peach shirt.<p>

Lynn noticed the photo that her sister was staring. She knew the power they held, and the memories they forever keep. She would be sympetheic towards her young sibling. "You know they are grateful for you,"she said calmly, not wanting to startle Stephany.

Stephany just nodded slowly. Therefore, Lynn carried on her attempts to cheer her younger sister up. "We all miss them, Steph, but it is not going to change anything. We all have to move on because this is life. We cannot sit around wallowing in our misery our whole lives. We have to move on." she pushed off the door frame she had been leaning on, walking to Stephany slowly.

Lynn looked for a reaction on Stephany's scarred face. She was surprised to see it threatened by tears, anger painted on her delicate features. She placed her hands delicately. For the first time in weeks, Stephany didn't shake off the comforting gesture.

"Mom and Dad do not miss it as much as I do! If they did, they would not make us move!" the tears that filled Stephany's eyes were set free racing down her pale face. When Lynn saw her sister's pain, confusion, sadness and hurt, gathered Steph into her arms. They shared the same pain and hurt. Both were suffering in their own ways. Stephany's hurt was right in the open; everyone could see something was troubling her. Lynn saved it inside and pushed it away, to deal with later, while it kept growing, and one day would consume her.

"Aw, honey, don't cry, tears mess up that pretty face of yours." Lynn said comfortingly tilting up her trembling chin with two soft fingers; even tears were leaving tracks over her features. She pulled Stephany down to the hard wooden floor, and leaned back on the mirrored closet. Lynn was determined to cheer her trembling, grief consumed sister. Lynn pulled out the picture she had snatched from the door. "Look, Steph, don't cry. We both have a reason for tears, but we cannot live our lives drenched in sorrow. Here take the picture." When Stephany abide, she wrapped an arm around the shaking shoulders and pulled her closely to her side. "We can miss them all we want, and I must admit, whenever I look at you, I just keep getting sadder and sadder. You remind me so much of them. However, I do not burst out in tears; I have to keep myself strong, for you, for Mom and Dad. Even for little Tommy. Therefore, I do it. For them I keep going and moving. Now it is your turn to do the same. I cannot be the only one who is holding us together. I need help. Please, be strong Stephany Lee Andrews. Especially for me."

"That is all anyone wants from me, help. Be strong, be brave, fight harder, and learn faster. That's all I get, be this. Everyone wants to transform me and use me to their will, they forget that I am a human and I make my own descisions."

"Everyone asks that of you because we know that you can do it. And because we are the weak ones. And you are the strong; when we see you we know it will be aright. You give us confidance."

Stephany looked up and saw the concern for her on Lynn's face. They had not been necessarily close but, the past few years they had grown closer than anyone else had.

"Thanks, Lynn. I love you."she said in a small voice. Stephany had not given any indication of love towards Lynn for weeks. She had been lost in her world of thoughts.

"I love you, too, Steph." And with a sigh, she stood up and offered a hand patiently to Stephany. "We should go; the car's not going to wait forever." Stephany nodded and accepted the hand, as she stood she enclosed her sister in a warm hug.

"Thanks, again, Lynn. For everything. You saved my life." Emotion coated her voice and tears flooded her eyes once again

Lynn gently whiped the tears off of Stephany's face and gave her a caring look. The sisters walked out of the room, without looking back, their suffering forgotten for a moment, while Stephany Lee Andrews Was Strong.

**Hello my readers,**

**So I hope you all like Stephany and the Andrews. And if not, too bad. They are part of the story, like it or not.**

**Thank you to every one who read and alerted my story.**

**And if you aren't Superkid222 you can skip this unless you want some useless backlight on the story. So thanks for the review and I know it needs more adventure but it's genres are Hurt/Comfort/Romance for a reason. If I could have picked a third, it would have been Adventure but there isn't any until the eighth chapter. So it will be a while until it comes to play. And I like the idea of a new species, but it has been done repeatedly and sometimes horribly, and I don't want to screw this up, so I am going to stick to my orignal plot and I have a different idea for a war. *hint hint on your request for action***

**So I believe I owe an explanation for this LATE update. Well, a few months ago my family moved my computer, so we had to use an adapter for WiFi to get Internet. Last week after I last updated, someone kicked the adapter (Cough cough, brother, cough cough) and it split in half. So it tooks us about a week to get a new one.**

**But, there is a good side to the story, this little break in updating allowed me to _really _fix up this chapter. I rather like it. And I have a head start on chapter nine. Updates might come sooner.**

**And Thank you soooo much to everyone who reveiwed again. It helps so much. **

**~AssassinAuthor.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: This isn't property of AssassinAuthor. Well, partly. The Andrews are my creation. The rest isn't. And neither is Airplanes pt. 2. That is B.o.B.'s**

**Reminder, _read the author's note_ at the bottom. It is really important.**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Five: Stephany Lee Andrews Is In New York City<span>**

The girl with midnight dark hair stared out of the smeared airplane window for what seemed to be an immeasurable amount of time. Little did those observing know her intentions was to catch a glimpse of the earth, which was a starling distance beneath her. But managing a glance at the solid earth was nearly impossible due to the massive collection of clouds blocking any form of the terrain. The pearly white surfaces were spread out for miles hanging in the air hiding any view of any object outside the average plane interior.

Stephany drew her gaze inside and flicker to the next song on her play list. B.o.B. was blasting through the epic rap versus in Airplanes, Pt. 2**(I couldn't help but use that song. The irony of it is halirious.)**,when the agitated voice of their pilot informed the passengers of their descent in ten minutes through the crackly speaker system.

With a sigh, Lynn gathered the junk she had loaded in the black backpack for entertainment on the dull plane trip across the states. She paused, growing frantic when she could not locate her last possession. She tugged Stephany's sleeve, who was sitting beside her, to ask if she knew where her picture went. As soon as Stephany saw, the panic in Lynn's eyes Steph knew the issue.

Pulling an ear bud she whispered, "You're sitting on it."

Lynn half-stood, half-crouched to reach her hand under herself and snatched the picture. "Thanks, Steph." she muttered.

Stephany just smiled amusedly in return and gathered her own belongings.

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><p>After leaving the airplane terminal and piling the whole family into a borrowed minivan, the Andrews headed on their way to their new apartment. The grey facades of the buildings, no matter how intricately carved, they depressed Stephany. In the little town she had lived outside of, all the buildings had been painted brightly often with murals done by the elementary school students.<p>

Reminiscing of her home buried in the Washington woods gave Steph a dull ache inside. She had rarely traveled before and would eternally miss where she grew up. "One day, be it the near or distant future, I shall return to the place of my birth." she silently vowed to her memories.

The corners of the streets were sharp and caused the Andrew siblings to be smashed against the grimy windows or each other roughly.

"We are here," Announced Mr. Andrews proudly as he pulled on the curb of an indistinctive building. "Our new home." The apartment building was a dark concrete outside with thick glass doors leading to a dimly lit lobby with a disorganized front desk.

Lynn swings her book bag over her right shoulder and slid into the strap. She followed her father into the lobby and to the front desk.

"Good morning, sir." Her father started.

"Hello." the manager sitting behind the desk curtly replied, obviously annoyed.

"I am here to pick up the keys for an apartment being rented by the Andrews." Mr. Andrews said keeping up with is bright attitude.

"Here," the grumpy man holds out a set of grimy keys with a paper label. "Apartment 5B, fifth floor, just on across the hall on the left of the elevator."

"Thank you. Have a nice day, sir." Mr. Andrews said. The manger grumbled in return.

Mother came inside, ushering Steph and Tommy, the youngest sibling, along with her. They grabbed the little luggage that could be stuffed in the horrid mini van, and wheeled it in to the grubby building. Dad was in front of the elevator, pressing the 'up' button. After waiting for a few minutes he called over to the man behind the desk, "This elevator is not working."

The man did not even look up from the wrinkled newspaper clutched in his hand. It was obvious to anyone that he did not care about the state of the elevator. In addition, that the newspaper he was 'reading' was dated for three weeks ago.

Mrs. Andrews just gave a grunt of disgust. A boy in his early teens came down out of a heavy steel door to the left of the elevator, holding the hand of a young girl who was so skinny you could see all of her bones. The boy noticed the family of five staring dejectedly at the broken elevator and muttered in a quite voice some advice. "The elevator almost never works. You will have to take the stairs." He pointed to the steel door he had emerged from. "It will be harder and take longer, but the air is always cooler in the stairwell."

Stephany's father thanked the teen, who nodded in response. The family was busily parading their belongings up the stair well until it the boy was alone in the lobby with Steph. Well, the grubby manager was there but he was still deciphering his aged newspaper.

Steph could feel the boy eyes baring holes in her back. She turned to snap at him that he should mind his own business and leave her alone, but when she faced him, she could only stare in shock.

The teenager was tall and muscled, with unkempt brown hair, weird scars showing on any skin not covered and dark eyes. They were not just dark in color but in the emotions playing on inside, visible to the world. Those eyes, full of pain, misery, sorrow, anger and defeat, scared Stephany because the eyes were a reflection of her own eyes. **(And I was going to leave you off here, but I decided to be nice.)**

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><p>Lynn had already carried three boxes, along with her personal belongings to the apartment and was wondering where Stephany was. She hadn't seen her move since Steph saw the boy.<p>

Climbing down the steel steps, holding on to the handrail for balance she passed the second and floor and stopped to pry open the heavy metal door on the landing to the first door. It took her several moments of shoving until it swung out on oiled hinges.

The tall boy was still staring at Stephany. It was creeping our Lynn. He was looking at her with such an intensity, as if she was a puzzle he needed to solve to save his life. The petite girl clutching his hand was looking to Stephany the same way, if not more quizzically. But Stephany didn't back down under their intense scrutinizing. She held her own and stared back just as powerfully, right into his eyes, meeting his gaze.

Lynn wondered why the three were caught up in a staring match. The teenager was handsome, if ruggedly so, with muscles and at least a head of height on Steph. But Steph wasn't the typical teen girl. She wouldn't stare a boys that were cute. She barley cared for relationships at all, aside from a small group of close friends. "_Except for that one…" _Lynn thought. But she supposed if this boy caught her eye then, let her have her fun. And she also supposed Stephany was a girl to look at. With her thick dark hair that fell gently past her shoulders. She was shorter then most girls, but had strength and speed. She also had fascinating eyes that were a deep brown, a shade lighter then her hair. _"Wait," _thought Lynn. _"His eyes…"_

_"That's it. Enough time wasted." _Lynn cleared her throat. She stuck her head and shoulders through the gap and called to Stephany. "Um. Steph, could you help me with this last box? it's kind of heavy…" she trailed off, not knowing how her sister would respond.

Stephany broke contact and glanced to Lynn. She picked the backpack of the ground at her feet and swung it over her shoulder. And turned without a backward glance and walked through the doorway. Stephany Lee Andrews Is In New York.

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><p><strong>So here you go, the next chapter. <strong>

**It might take me longer to update because I started eighth grade on wednesday.(eep!) And I have an Irish dance performance on friday, along with a feis(competition) coming up in October that is super important to me. I might move up! Another EEP! So stating the obvious, I'm going to be practing a lot. And working my but off. Therefore, it will take me a substantial amount of time to update.**

_**ALRIGHT, HERE COMES THE IMPORTANT PART.**_

**I need everyone to review. I need to know if you would perfer seeing the underland next, or more of Steph, along with a familiar face. You could pm me or review annyomously even. Please tell me. I have it already written, I need to know what order to post it. So, once again, your choices are Stephany and the Andrews or The Underland. Tell me. **

**Thanks all,**

**~AssassinAuthor**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own only the Andrews. The rest is the genuis ideas of Mrs. Suzanne Collins.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Those Dark Eyes<strong>

Those eyes. The eyes perched under the dark eyebrows contrasting with the pale-skinned youth. The dark, pained, sorrowful, tortured, eyes that took everything in in one gaze, as if he was evaluating and analyzing as if his life depended on it. These eyes, the dark, pained, sorrowful, tortured, eyes belonged to a dark, pained, sorrowful, tortured, boy. The eyes said, "I have seen things you never want to see. I know things you never need to know. I have faced evil and lived, but not unscathed."

They eyes that were a reflection of her own eyes. Where many evils have been concurred. Where the evils remain biding their time, waiting patiently for the time when you surrender and allow them to torture you with thoughts that make the most emotionally strong, uneasy.

Steph sat on the white windowsill, her body angled out to the city. She knew she should unpack but those eyes haunted her. They were so similar to her own eyes.

"_Whatever he has been through it has been just as challenging and horrific as my own struggles." _

Multiple fantasies roamed throughout Stephany's mind, creating a suitable past for those eyes.

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><p>Lynn had been working hard on making their new apartment appropriate for living. The boxes were packed tightly and full with possessions waiting in haphazard stacks placed oddly around the rooms. There is one master bedroom, a medium size and a small one, not much larger than a storage room. One bathroom leading off from an average living room placed behind a kitchen.<p>

"Lynn, your father and I are going out to get something for dinner. We have nothing here adquet for a substantial meal. Watch your brother and sister, okay?" Mrs. Andrews called as she gathered her purse and followed her husband out the door. Pausing before she was crossed through the doorway, "And try to explain that this _is _for the best, sweetheart."

"I'll try Mom, but there are no promises." Mrs. Andrews gave a regretful nod and exited the apartment.

With a sigh, Lynn dodged her way around the boxes to the room she would share with Steph. Once they had made their way up to the apartment with all their luggage, their parents had pointed out her room, Steph had walked in with her belongings and stayed there. Her parents had assumed that she was unpacking, but Lynn knew otherwise. She couldn't hear anything from the hall out side. Stephany made a great deal of noise, no matter what she was doing.

She had seen her sister, perched on the thin windowsill, staring out at the unfamiliar city. She had been is a state, following along but not fully taking part in the activities. She was thinking. It was what she had been doing the most for over two weeks now.

Lynn leaned against the wall inside the doorway, observing the young girl in front of her. "I know you would have stayed there forever if I didn't come get you." Lynn was referring to when she had ventured back down to the stairwell and found Steph and the mysterious teen staring at each other intently. She had cleared her throat and asked Stephany to help bring the boxes up. Stephany had nodded and shakily turned away. The boy had tugged on the little girl's hand and pulled her out the door, onto the sidewalk.

If Stephany was startled, she hid it well. Without turning around, she answered, "There's something familiar about him. It is as if I know him or I have seen him before. And his eyes. They resemble something I know."

Lynn raised a thin eyebrow at this but her only answer was to walk in and sit on the mattress next to the window where Steph sat. "So, do you like him?" She questioned innocently, her face hiding all emotion besides simple inqusition.

"No! How could you think that? I wouldn't be surprised if I never liked someone again." Stephany's voice was angered and aggitated at such an accusion.

"Well, just they way you talk about him. That's all." Lynn continued unfazed. "Mom and Dad went out to bring something home for dinner. You should unpack in here." She was about to leave when the doorbell rang through the apartment.

Steph jumped up and ran to get the door. Wanting to escape the task of claiming her room, sealing the fact that this was her home now. Not Washington.

When the door was pulled open, there was a middle-aged woman with chestnut brown hair and caring caramel eyes. She carried a covered platter. "Hello, can I help you?" greeted Stephany. Her voice was even and calm, hiding her suspicion.

"Hello, my name is Mrs. Cormaci. I am your neighbor." she pointed down the hall to right at the neighboring door. "Are your parents home? I brought a welcome gift." she raised the tinfoil-covered platter.

Lynn eased the door open even farther, reveling her presence. "Hi, I'm Lynn. Please come in. And no, our parents are out." Mrs. Cormaci bustled in and set the platter on the counter and stuck her hand out to Lynn.

"Nice to meet you, Lynn." Lynn took her hand and pulled it away quickly. She was never a social princess and stuck to her self, so contact with a stranger was awkward and unconditional.

"You too. This is my sister, Stephany, and my younger brother, Thomas." Lynn introduced them as a small boy of nine years with short blond hair and gravel grey eyes walked in. Mrs. Cormaci greeted them each with a nod at seeing Lynn's unease and afraid of startling the frail teens.

"So, where did you come from? I have lived in New York my whole life. I moved in here when I was married. Of course, that was years ago. My husband passed away a couple years ago." Mrs. Cormaci drabbled on, as she ploped onto a chair without invitation. It was obvious that she would be comfortable in any sitution.

"Northern Washington. We lived right outside of a small town and ran a small maple farm. We collected the sap from trees right on our property. We all grew up there." Lynn said smoothly, sliding into her own chair across from their guest at the table while Steph and Thomas stood. Stephany had slung her arms around Thomas' neck and stood behind him, leaning her chin on the top of his head. Tommy hung onto her thin wrists with his child hands, watching Mrs. Cormaci and Lynn with vauge intrest.

"Well isn't that interesting? You must have had a hard time adjusting to city life." Stephany zoned out only half listening to the woman's speech about the loudness and size of New York City. "So, how old are you, Stephany?"

"Thirteen." She answered curtly. Stephany was not one for small talk.

Mrs. Cormaci was taken aback from her abruptness.

"I am sorry, Mrs. Cormaci, Stephany is a bit tired. It was tiring traveling so much in one day."

"No, it is fine. Stephany just reminded me of someone for a moment. Stephany, there is another boy your age in the building. His named is Gregor. You should come over and meet him today." Suggested their neighbor.

"Maybe another day. I feel sick from traveling. I am going to go lay down, Lynn. Nice meeting you." And with a small nod, she left, Thomas trailing down the hall, gripping her hand.

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><p>Mrs. Cormaci left soon afterward, excusing herself for having to take dinner out of the oven. The aged woman pondered her encounter with her new neighboors as her feet carried her down the hall, padding lightly on the fadded carpeting.<p>

"_That Lynn is nice. She seemed responsible too." _Thought Mrs. Cormaci. _"And the other one, Stephany, she reminds me of Gregor." _Mrs. Cormaci paused, fishing around the pockets of her dark pants for her apartment keys. "_Gregor. He is the only one her age I know. Maybe it is simply the ages. But there is something similar between the two of them, aside from the age." _She unlocked the door to her apartment. "_Something was the same. Something… it was the eyes. Same color eyes." _Satisfied that she had figured it out, she walked in to take dinner out of the oven before it burned. _"Those Dark Eyes."_

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><p><strong>Hello,<strong>

**So I must admit I am disappointed. I asked for reviews and got one with the feedback I was looking for. Thank you, again, beachgurl. **

**If you haven't figured it out yet, she asked for the Andrews. So I gave it to her. Next chapter will have the Underland. Just saying.**

**I ask again. REVIEW, tell me how I am doing. Plus, I need a pick-me-up. I had a Latin test, a Technology test that I didn't study for(but got 100% percent on), a science lab report due, and we are having sucky weather in the north east. I need something to distract me.**

**And I know this is random but I was having an...er, arguement with my friend at lunch over which is better, Team PEETA(YAY WOOHOO! GOO PEETA!) or team Gale(Yay woohoo..not.) This is if you read the Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. If you review, tell me who you support. No matter who Katniss ends up with. Tell me. At my lunch table it is 75% Peeta and 25% Gale. **

**Thank you. SO much,**

**~AssassinAuthor**

**Post Scriptum: This is my longest chapter. Not including the A/N. :) Do I get a high five or what?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: uh-huh, you all think I'm going to do a disclaimer, dontcha? Well, too bad, in the spirit of teen rebelion, I'm not going to. So there.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: The Gnawer And The Ruler<strong>

_Many hours I have thought of you they were weak and fragile thoughts, wishes whisked away in the breeze. __Resembling a feather adrift on currents as powerful as the tide. For that is what I am in this world. I am my thoughts. And my thoughts are me. For where would I be with my thoughts adrift on the breeze? I would still be me. Thinking of you._

Luxa laid down her quill, careful not to splatter the parchment. Rubbing her eyes with her ink stained fingertips, the young queen sighed. The horrors and demands of cleaning up after a horrid and dreadful war, accompanied by the shock of recently being crowned along with the fatiguing necessities of daily living had taken their toll.

The queen's days were concerned with leading, deciding, planning, pondering, healing, building, maintaining, caring, grieving, and loving.

She was leading, not just the human nation but as the victor of a land wide war, the gnawers, flyers, nibblers, and almost every species in the underland relied on the young ruler's guidance. To Luxa, it was frightening that the lives of so many relied on her choices, thus the burden of decision.

She obviously had help from countless sources, offering support and guidance, and when needed, advice and opinions. However, the final decision landed squarely on her shoulders. The power at which she now held had terrified her mind. Her thoughts were infused with the desire for peace but thoughts were not enough, she needed actions. However, all actions were put on hold, the humans and gnawers were crippled from the war that had set them on the path for peace.

Lost pondering the depths of her political situation, the ruler did not notice the scared veteran gnawer sulking underneath the pale stone archway leading to Luxa's personal rooms.

Waiting for his presence to be taken accounted for was becoming tiring to the rat. The brown-coated gnawer stalked to the square stone table at which Luxa had spread her papers. Peering over the ruler's trembling shoulder, his eyes masterly scanned the thought out stanza scripted on the fresh parchment.

The intruder let out a snort of mirth and rolled back on it haunches, letting laughter shake his muscled body.

"Ripred!" The startled queen shouted as she stood and spun around to find the veteran smirking teasingly. "What are you doing here? And sneaking around the royal chambers none the less?" Instead of the anger he suspected, her accuses were laced with fatigue.

In between sputters of laughter, Ripred managed to answer, but not concealing his snide tone. "Well, excuse me _Your Highness, _but the council summons you . . . Again."

Luxa slouched against the table; the stone's chill could be felt through her black shirt and pants. "They are all fools; I do not know why we reinstated them after the war."

"That is perhaps one of the few subjects we can agree on. They waste more time on arguing over unimportant details then putting plans into motion." commented Ripred with a flick of his tail. "Your race was always on to bicker among your selves."

"If I had the energy to, I might state that _your _race was divided in half for the whole war and at least us humans took our stand and fought together." Luxa sighed.

Ignoring a jab that would certainly lead to disagreement, Ripred instead branched a plan to potentially embarrass his bond.

"I see you are spending your free time with a quill in your hand." Ripred was inching closer to the table with every word.

"Does it concern you with how I spend my free time?" Luxa retorted.

"It does when the opportunity to embarrass you arises." He suddenly lunged to the table, claws out stretched to apprehend the potential blackmail only to be met with the cold edge of a steel blade. Luxa held the sword strategically over her writings, which were bound in a leather notebook. An amused smirk adorned the gnawer's features as he blasted the rager sensation into high gear. Spinning he knocked Luxa's knees out from under her freeing the papers from their sharp guard. Snatching them from the table, Ripred sorted through, snorting here over a weepy-washy remark unleashing a chuckle done by a snide remark, while the queen took her chair again and turning it to face the rat's commentary evoking a playful banter.

"Really, Your Highness you have quite the talent for such writings. It would not surprise me if one day your writings will be recognized along side Sandwich's own prophecies," Ripred was positive she could hear the sarcasm in his voice, yet she took it as a complement, sitting up straighter and managing a mask covering her emotions.

"Why, thank you, Ripred, I was not expecting praise from you, especially some so high."

Ripred rolled his eyes when his back was turned, he was still not willing to make his disbelief in the prophecy's known. He said, "Of course. You do seem to write in the same dreary manner as he did, and look, you write about the Warrior even more then ol' Sandwich!"

"Give me those!" She snatched them away and rubbed the wrinkles out, hugging them close. "It is not my fault I can't help but think of him. He touched my heart deeply." She muttered sadly. A small frown forming.

Ripred realized the amount of distress he had made and tried to amend it. "Look, Luxa," He started in a soft voice. "Gregor touched all of our hearts deeply. Every person's in a different way. And you cannot help it that you fell for him, but you have to hold your head high, put your duties first and emotions second the way any accomplished and wise leader would."

"He certainly touched the hearts of my people, but not of you. I doubt you even have a heart!"

Luxa knew she had shot low, that she had insulted the rat. She could see the pain evident on his face. "Don't say that!" Ripred retorted sharply. "I do too have a heart, girl, and I loved him like a son! Him and Lizzie, I saw them as family, and until you went and got all defensive, I saw you as close to me. However, not anymore. He was different from your people; he was wonderfully full of surprises.** (I could not help but take a quote from the book. It was too darn tempting!) **And I miss him too."

Luxa stood shocked. The rat had become gentle with her. That was something she never expected. She sighed, realizing she had made a big mistake. "I'm sorry, Ripred, I did not think of my words or how harsh they were. I take them back."

"You are forgiven. Nevertheless, remember, you are a queen. Your words are heard from many important figures, think before you speak. You could soon spark another war."

Luxa nodded, grateful for the advice. "I suppose I should go to the council. They were expecting me."

Ripred nodded and left, Luxa trailing behind him, thinking of that day they had bonded, the two of them, The Gnawer And The Ruler.

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><p><strong>Hey person-reading-this-who-should-really-give-me-a-review-and-not-only-because-I-ask-really-nicely-every-week,<strong>

**Thank you all who reviewed! I hope I pm'd all of you, but if not, review again and I promise I'll get back to you.**

**So again I ask if you review, please tell me what team are you on team FangXMax or team DylanXMax. This is from James Patterson's jaw-dropping series, Maximum Ride. I just gotta know. I'm all FangXMax and am reading Angel right now and am sooo ready to punch someone. J.P. I can not believe you. **

**So chapter 11, which I was occupied with took me forever to finish. NOt just because I was obessesd with watching paranormal shows on SyFy while typing. Nope. Other crap was also an issue. So yeah. **

**Disclaimer: I reconsidered. Is being a rebel worth getting sued? Nah, its not. Not mine.**

**Thanks once again,**

**~AssassinAuthor**


	8. Chapter 8

**This took me forever to update. I've been stuck in a killer circumstance, which has blocked all of my attempts at uploading this. So read on, tell me what you think.**

**WARNING: ALL NEW CHARACTERS. Just thought I'd warn you so you wouldn't be all, "Oh, crap. What the heck am I reading? This isnt Assassin's freaking awesome story called the Second Warrior!" Yeah, now you can be like, "What the crap? This still doesn't make sense, even though it is the right story!"**

**Disclaimer: Characters are mine. The rest, not mine. *sad face* **

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Eight: An Important Message For The King<span>**

"No! No! Do not leave me here! Do not die!" The man called out with such effort and force in his stressed voice that if anyone had been watching, they would not have been surprised if the rusty red flyer lying on it's back had lived.

"I cannot, for my time is up, good-bye my bond, fight well and strong." The voice was stressed and strained, struggling past the words. The flyer took one last shaky breath, the river of red pouring out of its chest was too strong, and there it died. Blood coating the fur, blending in on the ground which it pooled onto, in the dark surrondings.

"Oh, well look at that, the pathetic _killer_ lost his bond," Teased a scratchy voice from behind the man croutched on the uneven ground.

"That's just too bad, but I suppose if we kill this one here, we can have twice the meal." Chimed in a second party, sarcastically. The voices kept growing closer, circling their prey, waiting to spring the trap and pounce on their catch.

"No!" Screamed the blood coated man in a raw roar. The red substance flowed out of a long gnash on his thigh and he was missing a finger on his left hand. Nevertheless, he could still fight, and would until his last breath. With a growl, the messenger drew his sword into a fighting stance, whirling around to face his opponents, lose rocks spraying around him. He had to get out; he had to make it back. He had information that was just too precious to lose. The message he carried would save their nation. He could not risk the lose if he did not return. The injured man lunged forward, sword-biting flesh as he attacked his opponents in a daul that alomst promised his death.

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><p>"…beside the point. What I am trying to say is that we can<em> not<em> afford to give the shiners more land. They have plenty of rivers for fishing and more then enough for their yearly breeding." A young man spoke with authority that no one doubted he owned it. As the teenager spoke, his eyes swept across the men and women seated around the oval stone table. His eyes caught the expression on a young staffs face. "They will survive, Maurice, and I do know that they have done some. . . great deeds for us, and our alliance is in the early stages but we just can not give them more. And if we were to then they would as-" The speaker was cut off as a messenger with blood coating the pale skin on his hands burst in to the private conference room. Clasping his hands to his knees, leaving bloody hand prints on his pants he half-bowed to the speaker, and tried to catch his breath while doing so.

"Your Highness, Kenton, the messenger, wishes an emergency audience with you. It is of the utmost importance, he had said." the messenger complied in between gasps for breath. He had obvliously ran a distance in a hurry to deliver his message.

The man thought for a moment and motioned for the messenger to exit the hall saying, "Send him in, we have not much to attend to." He gestured to the seated members of what was obviously a council.

"Your Highness, you must go to him." The messenger's voice dropped to a mutter and grew hesitant at ordering his superior.

"And why, pray tell, is that?" The king said with a suspicious look.

"Kenton is in the hospital. He was attacked by rouge gnawers, three distances from the city, he ran here, severely wounded after his bond died." The words rushed out, a river of information.

The king glanced at the pale faces of the council members. He had rather important business to take care of with them, not like what he had said before, as an excuse to leave in the middle of a rather boreing speach. Usually he could not leave without their permission, even though he was their leader. **(As I wrote this I was thinking, "Take me to your leader much?")** He waited impatiently; a messenger attacked by rouge gnawers was a rather pressing issue. With a sigh, a second, more elderly, man with a long silvery beard nodded reluctantly and stood to follow using a cane for support that his knee could no longer offer. The king raced out the door to the hospital level of the palace.

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><p>The pale teenage fidgeted in his seat. He taped an irregular pattern with his fingers on the stone table in front of him, sending out waves of anxiousness.<p>

A messenger clad in metal armor rushed into the room, pausing a moment to bow low, then proceeded in stating his message.

"Kenton is out of surgery; he lost severe amounts of blood and was in a slight trauma. He will be fine, but the doctors ordered him rest and he refused, claiming his message to you as too important. They slipped him sleeping aid in his meal. It will be five hours until he wakes. You shall be the first to see him, your Highness."

"Thank you, Creoles, now go rest, it has been a long night." The teen said, dismissing the messenger as he stood eagerly.

"Thank you for the offer, my King, but I must refuse, I have my job to attend to."

The king sighed. "Go, Creoles, you are obviously tired and you have been running around all night. You have troubles getting around as it is with your leg, and we need fresh eyes that had rest to take your position. I order you to rest. I will find a replacement."

The messenger bowed low and walked out with the assistance of a crutch. The king followed and stuck his head out of the doorway, towards the retreating back of the man.

"And if I find out you disobeyed my order, I will strip you of rank!" Teased the teen. All he got in return was a hearty laugh from the man as he walked down the hall. The king turned into the room, a small grin on his features.

He was still smiling slightly as he turned in and sank to the chair, slightly relieved and still anxious for the important message. He had lent back and was rubbing his eyes when he heard the slight knock on the door. Glancing up he motioned to the elderly man to come in. The tall man hobbled in easing most of his weight onto a second chair across from the one that the young man was seated in. He rested his cane on the arm of the seat. He looked as tired as the young king felt.

They sat for several minutes of a compatible silence. The teen was drifting off to sleep with his head propped up on a hand and his eyes shut ever so slightly, and his breath deep and even.

"Lyon, I do not mean to be intrusive but, perhaps you would like to go to your chambers if you must rest."

The young man bolted up at the elder mans soft voice. "I suppose I should. I have not gotten much rest these past few days. It seems there is always _urgent_ business I must attend to." he muttered mockingly.

"Now Lyon, do not speak in that tone of voice. Your subjects just escaped from a war that traumatized them. They need assistance and guidance, therefore they turn to you. It is only natural that they take their problems to the leader. To your subjects, all their issues are urgent." The elder man reprimanded the young boy. He supposed he was being a little bit hard on him, so he smiled and tried to cheer him up. "Well, you are receiving important news from Kenton, are you not? You should be happy."

"Regal, I would be happy if I was used to important news being good news. But in my experience, important means dangerous, risky, somewhat illegal, and generally _bad_ news."

"Well perhaps you should look brightly towards things. You copy your father, ever the pessimistic."

"I hope I can become my father. He ruled strong and hard, until his last breath! If it takes me to look down on issues the way he did for me to become a great leader, then I will!"

"Perhaps you should not be anything such as your father was then. You only seem to good deeds ruling when he is the farthest from your mind!" The debate had turned sour and had many people listening in from the hall, worried, it was not often the grandfather fought with his king grandson.

A gentle knock on the wall stopped the bickering. "Come in." Lyon growled curtly.

A young woman with a kind face and caring violet eyes glanced at them worriedly and holding the hand of a small child, she entered the reception room.

"Your Majesty, Regal," she said offering each a small bow.

"Lion!" Cheered the small girl of five years with a mop of shimmering pale curls. She unlatched her hand from the caretaker and stretched her arms to Lyon.

"Hello, Demetria!" He called with false cheer coating his tired voice, bending to pull the little girl into his arms. "And how many times must I tell you, my name is Lyon…"

"Like Imma gonna lie-on you!" she finished it for him, her voice squealing in delight. Then she proceeded on tickling him. He faked his laughter and pretended to lose his balance and land on the grey stone floor. She climbed on his chest and tiredly circled his neck with her little arms and snuggled on his chest.

Lyon smiled at his young sister. She was adorable. He loved her so much. In addition, he was about to fall asleep. With a wide yawn, he stood and cradled his now sleeping sister in his arms and muttered something about slmber. As he made his way to his rooms with his sister in his arms people bowed to their king. He returned the gesture simply with a nod. On a usual day, Lyon would pause to converse of matters that did not matter. However, with hauling Demetria, who had began snoring loudly and was casting glances; in his arms, he gave up all attempts at small talk and began thinking of sleep as well.

When he reached their rooms he attempted in releasing Demetria, but her grip on his neck never lessened and he sighed. They would share the bed tonight.

He climbed into bed without a thought on changing, for his mind was focusing on the Important Message For The King.

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><p><strong>Hey, <strong>

**THANK YOU Dragunity Gemini FOR REALIZING I ACCIDENTLY POSTED CHAPTER 7 AGAIN. Thanks a thousand times over. **

**So thanks for reading, all. I can't believe that I finally introduced this chapter. I have been waiting to do it _forever. _Tell me what you think. I need to know. I have run out of anything witty to say. That sucks, huh?**

**Well,I do believe an apology is in order. So this is very freaking late. I know. I have been juggling a reading competition, a book club, the infamous school, Irish dance, talent show preperations, reading freaking awesome books, hanging out with friends and begging my parents for something I will probabaly die without.**

**Is anything cool going on in your life? No? Well that is horribel! I, for one, was invited to this program called People to People. It is a program that takes outstanding students and gives them the oppertuninty to go on a 20 day trip around the world. I got nominated, and this year they are all going to Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and England! Eeeep. I want to go soooo bad. The trip is supposedly expensive. (I don't know, you have to go to a meeting to find out all the info.) and my pearents bluntly refuse. I am trying to presude them to change their minds and let me go to the meeting, but I have run out of ideas. So if you have any, PM, email, or review me. I need some help here. Please. Help me.**

**Thanks and I'll update asap,**

**~AssassinAuthor.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I apoligize for the late and perhaps long awaited update. **

**Disclaimer: I am not taking credit for this fanfiction idea. Only the names are mine. **

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Important News Does Not Mean Good News<strong>

"Lyon, Lyon," a soft voice murmured in his ear at the same time his shoulder was shook gently. For a moment it sounded distinctly as his mother's calm and light tone, which seemed to float through the air before it reached your ears. "Lyon," the person continued. "Lyon, wake yourself, your presence is needed."

Lyon was slow to comprehend the words, for his mind was drowsy from sleep. Once his senses were aware, Lyon dozily wiped his eyes and uncurled from the little girl next to him who was still lost in slumber.

Spotting Jolyeen hovering over the bed, he realized the voice was not his mother's and got up quickly. "_It is impossible for it to have been her voice. I remember what happened to her." _He thought_._

Stretching his hands over his head, loosening his muscles, he asked why he had been awoken so late in the night.

"Lyon, Kenton has awoken he stresses the need to rely a message of important value to you." She said it in a steely voice as if trying to hide unnecessary emotion.

Lyon nodded silently and pushed his pale hair down to his scalp. Inside, his thoughts were racing. "Jolyeen, will you watch Dem for me? I will be needed to go to the hospital and I wish not to leave her alone."

"Of course I will." She smiled as she brushed the sleeping child's curly hair off her pale brow with unexpected gentleness.

"Do you know of the room Kenton is located in the hospital?" Lyon questioned, eager to be on his way.

"Ask a guard that you encounter. One of them shall know." she replied bluntly, as if avoiding a topic purposely.

"Which guard, Jolyeen?" Lyon asked straight out. He was annoyed by her games. "Tell me." He added when she hesitated. "I do not have time for your games. I am in a rush." He was frustrated and his temper was rising.

Jolyeen cringed and muttered under her breath, "Any guard."

Lyon was fed up. "Fine then, I shall listen to your quirk."

Jolyeen pulled up a chair to the bed where the young child rested and plopped down. Lyon shot her a glare as he stalked to the entrance of the hall planning on stopping the nearest guard to inquire several topics.

Jolyeen sighed and fiddled with the hem of the woven blanket, tucking in in which would comfort Demetria. She muttered to herself, "I must be more careful with my opinions. I do not wish to be thrown out."  
>Her worn eyes scanned the royal chamber and rested on little Dem. She patted her hand as Dem stirred in her sleep. It was her duty to protect these children. It proved her loyalty to Trenton. In turn for her loyalty she was granted with protection. She needed to be protected. People couldn't figure out who she was. Not yet.<p>

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><p>Lyon rubbed his eye lids tiredly, a habit that had begun with his sudden crowning, scanning the hall that led outside of his private chambers. <em>"Odd," <em>he thought. _"There should be guards stationed down this hallway." _Carrying on with his search for an individual to lead him to the messenger Kenton, he strode down a dimly lit corridor, his feet patting along, echoing along the undecorated walls. The hallway was lit with clay torches placed at intervals that made some sections of the corridor bathed in light while others were drowning in darkness. It was in a section of dark when a figure leapt out from around a corner a few feet ahead and brandished a drawn sword. "Halt!" A deep brass voice commanded. "Who is passing? What is your business?"

Lyon stopped and immediately answered his request. "It is I, Lyon, the king. I am on my way to receive a message. I was sent for."

The solider was not convinced. "Step into the light, I do not believe your claims."

Lyon sighed but complied anyway. The solider let out a gasp when Lyon was bathed in torchlight. "I am sorry, sir. I did not mean any disloyalty by not believing you." The solider rushed out more stumbled sentences expressing his loyalty. He was interrupted by the sound of uneven foot steps coming around the corner. The guard let out a high-pitched shriek when a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder. A guard assisted by a crutch smiled amusedly down at him. "Calm, Mitchell. It is I."

"Creoles." The king was glad. He would have done anything to get the obviously inexperienced guard's rant. The solider had continued on through Lyon's protests that he had made an honest mistake that was easily forgivable. "I am so glad you are-"

"Save it," Creoles commanded, raising a hand. Then he directed his attention to the guard who had spent valuable time on apologizing to Lyon. "Mitchell, rest. Your shift has been long over. Leave for the barracks, Juan has already relieved you."

Mitchell answered, "Yes, sir." crisply, accompanied by a salute and a formal bow to Lyon then left.

Creoles gave Lyon a stern look. Even though Lyon was technically his superior, Creoles was one of a few people not afraid to be in control of the young ruler since he had trained him in fighting since Lyon could hold a sword.

"I know why you are here." Creoles answered Lyon's questioning glance. "In fact, I was sent to get you, seeing that you were taking a great deal of time and the business was rather urgent." He led Lyon down a stairwell and Lyon followed with put questioning his actions. "Knowing what happened, I will not ask for an explanation." he said with a dry chuckle. There was silence for a long while. Until Lyon brandished the courage to ask what had been on his mind.

"Creoles, Jolyeen said something that got me rather upset." The veteran nodded for the teen to continue when he paused to look at Creoles' face. "She said 'ask any guard' in response to my question of the location of Kenton. Creoles, what did she mean by that?"

Creoles sighed. This was as discussion he did not want to get into. "That, my king, is a conversation for another time." When the boy opened his mouth to refuse putting off the answering of his question, Creoles cut him off. "We shall continue this later. I promise. And any act of refusal you give to me, I can easily back off saying we are here." He motioned to a doorway, covered in a blood red curtain. "Kenton awaits you, My Highness."

"Fine," Lyon grumbled in response. He parted the crimson curtains down the center and entered the cool room.

Kenton was propped up with pillows behind his head. The messenger was scarily pale with bandages wrapped tightly around his thigh and his left hand bundled in gauze. It was obvious the messenger had been through a horrendous ordeal by the way emotion played out evidently on his face and his jump as Lyon's soft footsteps patted across the stone floor.

Lyon pulled out the chair placed diagonally from the cot and sat down. Lyon studied the worn messenger across from him. He remember the solider who had greeted him on the day of his coordination and bowed to him low, then cut a joke over his ears which stick out slightly. Lyon had immediately taken a liking to him and accepted his teasing jokes and snide comments with a certain comic relief into his day. The solider had been the one to deliver much vital information to him on a daily basis. Now the man, once with a straight posture, now slouched, eyes downcast.

Kenton spoke in a hoarse whisper. "I have been waiting to give you my news for a long while, My King."

Lyon nodded and spoke gently. "I know you have. Tell me it now, if you will, for I have been anxious."

"I know not how to say this in a manner that shall not be too startling." the messenger fidgeted with the hem of the woven quilt covering his cot.

Lyon raised an eyebrow questionably and nodded for Kenton to continue.

"I will start from the beginning. I left within a party of eighteen. We were to investigate the odd inquires presented from Nova. When we had reached the most outlying areas occupied by humans, we also saw the strange and ducking lights. They were not those of a shiner, as first speculated but rather torches, held at waist level and must have been a long distance away, for it was most defiantly fire, but it had dimmed making the witnesses believe it was a different sort of light." Kenton paused; the exercise of speaking so much had taken his breath away.

Lyon nodded, lost in his thoughts. It makes sense. He remembered ordering the group to look into the strange seemingly floating orbs of light that had been reported by Niovi, who is a trusted scout. She had been credible and backed her story up with claims from countless citizens. He remembered ordering the 19 men and women to the borders of their lands and how apprehensive over the task they were. The mission had been a success to a certain degree. But it didn't add up. Who had been the people carrying the torches? There were humans out passed their border on that side. Save for the out casts in the Dead Land. But by now they had died. No one had been abandoned out there since after the war. No one could survive for that long alone either in the Dead Lands. When Lyon voiced his opinions, Kenton shivered and hastened to reply.

"They weren't humans. They were Gnawer. Rouge Gnawers, My King.

Lyon took a sharp breath in. This was nothing of what he had expected. Nothing of the sort had ever occurred before.

"My king? My King? Lyon?" the hoarse voice of the worried messenger sent Lyon back in place. He had not realized just how much he had delved into his thoughts. Questions floated around the young ruler's head. It was all an impossible confusion for him. A stray thought he had worried over constantly prodded his mind. _"_I suppose Important News Does _Not _Mean Good News._" _

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><p><strong>Hey,<strong>

**I am really sorry that I took so long on this updating, I am not going to give the excuses that you had all heard and are bored of. **

**Thanks to everybody that had reviewed. I ask for reviews because I need them. Review Please! **

**I hope it won't be too long until I update again. **

**~AssassinAuthor**


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter has offfically been disclaimed by AssassinAuthor. **

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Things Could Always Be Better<strong>

Lyon stood up calmly, walking to the dark colored curtains, his head spun. Everything seemed to be falling apart just like that one day months ago.

He had waited patiently at the gates of his once proud city. He welcomed the survivors of the war and their allies. They rejoiced to see their leader alive, the one who brought them into the war, carried them through it, and would still be there to lead them after the devastating period. Neverless, Lyon could not feel the joy his citizens did. He did not feel the light and airiness of victory touch his heart. Lyon's heart had turned cold and hard, such as stone. He knew as he waited in his position, that salty tears would come. However he had citizens he had to lead. Lyon waited for the lady that he knew would never walk through the towering stone doors. Sadly, he was correct.

The body of the girl he loved had been carried in. The tears he tried to hide sprang out and cut him like shards of glass. His emotions played out as he saw her chest shudder and raise, taking a painful lung of air. Relief, fear, confusion, and joy were suppressed as he called for doctors and jumped to hold his love in his arms again. The love of his life that he never held, the young king pushed all of the thoughts that lead him to think of her, and stroking her dark hair, staring into her deep eyes, kiss her soft lips… No, he wouldn't allow himself to be distracted from this current situation by his love sick thoughts. He exited the room and summoned the nearest in-palace messenger. The pallid woman stood quietly and listened to his memorandum with rapt attention.

"Sort out all the council members and repeated this message to them, verbatim. I recently had severe news reported to me; it is in need of serious attention. We shall congregate in two days time. As for the delay, I need time to create a valid plan for our course of action. It will take much time and thought, considering my constant duties relying on me along with this recent pressing situation." Lyon paused, tilting his head to the side to scan his thoughts for any last memos to add. "Also, tell no one that we shall gather to discuss new information. Say it is to complete the matters we did not finish at the last meeting. That is all. You are dismissed." the messenger bobbed down in a small, formal bow and left, her hair swinging behind her head in order to speed away to fulfill her duties and deliver messages to the various recipeants.

Lyon turned into the bare hospital room and Kenton the messenger shivered under the thick blankets. Lyon, who he had grown up knowing, had an expression that Kenton had never viewed on his pale features before. This was a rather unnerving sensation for the experienced solider. For it meant that his report brought word of something that had never been dealt with before, this was an all new challenge that would be faced, with no precedent to guide them through the process. Kenton struggled under his blankets, cursing his numb, heavy limbs, wanting to desperately rise and aid his city without success.

When Lyon brought his attention to the rustling and cuss words being muttered under someone's breath, he was startled.

"No, Kenton, you must rest. You have been wounded a great deal, and shall take a while to heal." Lyon paused to see if his speech was having much effect. It was not. "Kenton, when a course of action is to be played out, we will have need of you. I can not call on you for aid if you do not allow your wounds to heal properly. Also Icannot permit a half-healed solider battle, if it comes to pass, especially not our best." Lyon was satisfied that his words were now having an effect on the solider. He lowered his voice indicating the privacy his tone held. "You must mourn Silvia, also. She was a great flyer, Kenton. You were the best bond for her. Silvia would be proud of the feats you accomplished. You two were well matched. We shall grieve for the loss of her." Lyon left the room, but not before eyeing the salty tears that stung Kenton's sorrowful eyes.

Heading for the arena, Lyon sighed deeply. Kenton and Silvia had been great bonds and an even greater fighting team. Their army will miss the pair. Kenton could still participate with the foot soldiers and other military personal, however Lyon had a premonition that Kenton would be struck too deeply to find another bond. No flyer would be adequate for him after the loss of Silvia.

"Things seem to be worsening for Trenton." reasoned the king, as he heaved a sword off the rack setup in the back of the arena. Finding it suitable, he searched for an adquet sparring partners and swung the blade. He blocked his opponent's thrust with the flat of the blade and stepped into the swing and shoved him back. As their sparring grew repetitive, Lyon allowed his thoughts to wonder. "_Things Could Always Be Better."_He blocked his opponent's thrust with the flat of the blade and stepped into the swing and shoved him back. As their sparring grew repetitive, Lyon allowed his thoughts to wonder slightly. "_Things Could Always Be Better."_

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><p><strong>Warm Holiday greetings to all,<strong>

**Well, it has been a long time since I have ran my hands across this keyboard and uploaded a chapter for you readers. I regret that. Neverless, I will continue to update, as long as I have readers. Also, could some of you that read, but do not review, just type a little something and press the button down there? Please? I admit, I need some encouragement here. **

**I may update close to the New Year. Look out for a new chapter soon. I hope you all had a magnificant holiday! **

_**ATTENTION; TRANSLATION CHALLENGE**_

**My friend(who shall remain anymouns) recently taught me a phrase in Latin(we sit next to each other, bad choice Magister!) which goes Ego obstupefaco. Any one who can translate it to me gets a sneek preview of the next chapter! **

**GOOD LUCK!**

**~AssassinAuthor**


	11. Chapter 11

**This is an offical disclaimer by AssassinAuthor. This series belongs to the wonderful Ms. Suzanne Collins. **

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: It Is Nice To Meet You<strong>

"We're home," Mrs. Andrews shout rang through the barely furnished apartment, being slightly muffled by Mr. Andrews stepping into the kitchen with a door slam and plopping grocery bags onto the slightly dusty counter top. "And we brought food." she attempted to call her family into the kitchen again, this time her announcement was met with three pairs of footsteps pounding against the wooden and thinly carpeted floors.

"Great, I'm starving," Thomas stated as he slid in his socks over the pale linoleum flooring and crashing into his tall father's leg.

"Whoa, there Tom, I'm sure you're hungry, but there is no need to go slamming into me, making me fall onto your food." he teased, cheerfully. "Then there won't be anything left to eat." He made Tom giggle with an eight-year-old's delight lighting up his young features as he spun him across the floor.

Mrs. Andrews sighed at her husband's amusing and playful banter as he pushed and pulled Thomas playfully over the floor, their socks allowing them to slide over the slippery floor with ease.

Lynn gave a running start from the bare wooden floor before the entrance to the kitchen and glided in, managing to bump hips with her father and brother, a small whoop escaping her lips. Giggling from dizziness, she pulled out a chair and plunked herself down.

Stephany seemed to be a walking shadow as she slipped into the bustling kitchen. Her mother was preparing food while Thomas assisted her father in stocking their cupboards with the purchased groceries as Lynn leaned over and examined the items bought. "What's for dinner?" Stephany's inquiry brought her mother's attention to her and she paused in thought, taking a moment to use a huff of breath to blow a stray lock of straight, light brown out of her face.

"Well, sweetie, I know how you…, now what was the word you used, detest?" Mrs. Andrews paused yet again. "I know how you, err, detest fast food, but sweetie, there was no exception today. We don't have time to cook and we all are too tired to do it anyway, so we just had to, okay?"

Stephany rolled her eyes at her mother's attempt at advanced vocabulary and decided dejectedly not to make a fuss over the unhealthy eating. Even she was too tired to complain. Instead, Steph pulled over a plate and fixed her dinner while her mother heated up food for Thomas.

Once the family of five was seated around the table, they ate in a hollow silence that seemed to seep into their ears, as they scavenged their minds for an attempt at a conversation.

Lynn, shot her eyes around the table chancing upon many different expressions. Her mother next to her seemed to be having a silent argument with her husband who was seated at the head of the table. Her mother must have been winning. Because the next thing to happen was Mr. Andrews clearing his throat and creating a conversation to fill the silence.

"So." Mrs. Andrews shot him a second look that seemed to say, _'Tell them now Earl, or you will be doing the dishes.' _And Mr. Andrews hurried on. "So, Kids. Guess who your mother and I ran into when we were at the grocery store?" When no one bothered on stating a guess he gave up and charged into the discussion. "We ran into the boy from the lobby. He was with his parents. It turns out that he has two siblings, two sisters, to be exact. And he is your age Stephany." The last sentence was accompanied by a pointed look to the dark haired teen.

Stephany knew the weight of that glare. She just matched it with her own and sent it right back to her father. "So, what do I care?"

Mrs. Andrews sighed in exasperation. "You should care, Steph. You'll be in the same grade at school. He could show you around." her mother was suggesting a little bit more then a neighbor showing her around. Something Stephany did not want to get into.

Stephany was now as frustrated as her mother. "Mom, I don't care. I don't need anyone to show me around. It is a school. Not a maze. I have done more challenging things." her eyes were rolling again.

Her mother was indifferent. "That is just too bad, Stephany. I asked him to show you and your sister around and take you to see the school tomorrow. And he agreed. You and Lynn will leave with him around noon. And it is set. No excuses."

Stephany jumped up and kicked back her chair. She had reached her boiling point. Her mother was in no right to make plans for her with some strange boy even if Lynn was coming along. "I am not going." and she marched angrily to her shared room and slammed the door shut, blocking her mother's protests over leaving the table without permission.

Lynn glared at her mother. "You _never_ should have done that. She is going to hate you now. For real. This is going to take forever and a year for her to get over." Lynn's evil eye at her mother was making Mrs. Andrews nervous.

"Lynn, don't you start talking to me that way. I get enough of it from your sister. I don't need it from you." Mrs. Andrews was stern and not backing down.

"If you didn't treat her like this, I wouldn't be compelled to take such an action against you and neither would Stephany! If you had even considered what your daughter had gone through, and the atrocities she had witnessed to save countless lives, then _perhaps_ you would understand what it is exactly that you are putting her through, moving all of us out here far away from everyone she loves!" Unlike her mother, Lynn had an uncanny grasp on advanced vocabulary and spit it into anyone's face with ease. This just infuriated her mother even worse.

"Lynn Marie Andrews, go to your room. I _never _want to hear you speak to me in that tone again." Mrs. Andrews had fury painted over her features and her voice came out like gravel rather then the usual soft purr of a caring mother.

Lynn smirked with a surprising amount of attitude and strode off to her shared room. The hard-wood floor squeaked lightly under Lynn's soft footsteps. She hesitated at the door way as Lynn heard soft sobs coming from the bedroom. She knocked lightly and called out Steph's name. When her attempt at attracting Stephany's attention was left unnoticed, Lynn eased the door opened and was meet by the sight of her younger sister curled up on her side, tears streaking down her sharply profound cheek-bones.

Lynn raced to Stephany's side, crouching next to the bed she whipped he sister's tear-streaked face and murmured soft words of caring.

"Come on, Steph, sit up." Lynn said softly once Stephany had stopped crying and her sister leaned forward and Lynn slid behind her and cradled Steph in her arm.

In between chocking breathes, Stephany croaked out, "Why…would she…do that…to me?"

Lynn stroked her hair gently with a calming motion, letting the silky black strands fall through her contrastingly pale fingers. "Honey, she's just trying to help you, in her own non-understanding way." The blond-haired youth felt her slightly shaky sister nod against her shoulder. "And, honey, it _is _okay to move on. He would want you to."

"Lynn…I could never do that. It would feel as if I were…" Stephany trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

"If you were what? Betraying him? Steph, he wants you to do this." Lynn encouraged her.

"Well, if he would want me to would not K-" Stephany was cut short by Lynn suddenly taking a gasping breath.

"Stephany! You know that…that we would…that I would…" Lynn dropped off her sentence and found it that she could not continue.

However, her sister was ready to debate Lynn's own words. "Why must I move on while you, yourself, hang on to mere memories with the tightest of embraces?" Lynn had more sorrow then anything smeared on her face. "I do not mean to be harsh, for I am stating the facts. I do wish to get every amount of fairness that has been curely stolen from me in my entire life. And if this I the way I must, I shall." At this point, her sister was stunned into silence, bewilderment blanketing all other emotions. "I love you, Lynn, I truly love you."

"I love you, too, Stephany. I would just like to say, I am looking out for you when I speak my messege. I am sorry if you took it another way." Lynn left Stephany's bed and lay down onto her own. "I _am _sorry."

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><p>"<em>Beware, Underland, time hangs by a thread, <em>

_The hunters are hunted, white water runs red,_

_The Gnawers will strike to extinguish the rest,_

_The hope of the hopeless resides in a quest,_

_An overland warrior, a son of the son,_

_He may bring us back light; he might bring us back none,_

_But gather your neighbors and follow his call, _

_Or Gnawers may surely devour us all,"_

_Two over, two under, of royal descent,_

_Two flyers, two crawlers, two spinners assent'_

_One Gnawer beside and one lost up ahead,_

_Eight will be left when we count up the dead,"_

_The last who will die must decide where he stands,_

_The fate of the eight is contained in his hands, _

_So bid him, take care, bid him, and look where he leaps,_

_For life may be death, which life once again reaps."_

As Gregor's deep eyes scanned the final stanza after countless times, he once again was doused with uncharacteristic amounts of emotion. The teen layback, hands clasped behind his head tightly, reclining on the plush surface of his worn mattress._ "This is how it started, now look how it ends." _He thought bitterly, repulsion dotting his features. The crinkled and yellowing scroll lay flat on his stomach, moving up and down with the motion of a ship on rough seas, in sync with his quiet breathing.

Muffled footsteps crossed to his door, right outside his room. He swiftly hid the aged scroll under his bed sheets, for if any of his family were to see it he would surely be given the speech over how his obsession with looking at the documents that were his past, is unhealthy for him and how he should focus on his life. Not the one he wanted. The one everyone wanted him to have. It was a boring and fruitless process that ended up with everyone more frustrated and irritated then before.

He had just snatched his homework out of the beaten up backpack on the floor where it had laid dejectedly gathering dust as his mother called to him.

"Gregor?" His mother called emptily into the room. Some odd emotion coated her voice, almost making her words strangle as if they were painful coming out of her throat. She stepped not a foot into the room, for lack of space, instead staying placed in the hall, and leaning in. "Do you remember the people we saw at the store?" Not waiting for a response nor expecting anything but the silent nod she received, and carried on. "You promised them you would take their two daughters to the school, and show them around. You need to go. Besides, you have been spending way too much time in the apartment, aside from school, its time you get out." Grace received no response in return and contemplated on waiting until she was granted one, but deciding against it. "Well, you should go over soon. Around noon. Okay?'

Grace was relieved when her son gave her a confirming nod. "I will go over now." Even though it was a curt reply, his mother smiled a fake and cheap smile. "Good. You can take your sisters if you want." Grace offered, thinking having Boots and Lizzie with him would make him more comfortable when he was with two strangers. Again, a nod was granted.

"I'll go and get your sisters. Be ready to leave in five minutes." she paused before leaving completely. "It's apartment 5B, one down from Mrs. Cormaci. Okay, sweetie?" And she left. Not waiting for any sign he heard.

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><p>A short time later, Gregor was waiting patiently outside of apartment 5B, his sister Boots in his arms, curly-hair head wedged under his chin and Lizzie's pale hand clasped in his grip.<p>

"Lizzie, knock on the door, please." Gregor muttered tightly. Lizzie rapped quickly on the door with peeling paint, making a hollow thump echo down the empty hallway. A muffled commotion banged behind the closed entrance. The sound of a chain being unlatched and a door lock being undone as the trio shifted nervously in the empty hallway. The door swung inward on squeaky hinges to reveal a blond-haired man dressed in dusty, worn-out jeans and a stained work shirt.

"Oh, hello," The man cheerfully stuck out his hand as a cheerful grin was plastered on his face. "I'm Mr. Andrews; we met yesterday at the store."

"Uh, Mr. Andrews, I do not mean to be rude but I have both of my hands full, literally." Gregor answered bluntly, but not unkindly.

"Oh yes, excuse me. I'm just a tad bit tired and the work of moving in it's…well, tiring." He smiled and grinned the whole sentence through. Even though Gergor gave a polite and brisk nod. "Come on in, meet my children." The man stepped back and allowed access to the apartment.

Gregor and Lizzie walked in; Boots was carried, and entered a kitchen crowded with half-packed shipping boxes. Mr. Andrews called out of the doorway, to the rest of the family. A woman lacking a few inches of her husband was followed in by a tall blond teen and a light haired young boy. The woman smiled earnestly and introduced the teen girl as Lynn and the boy as Thomas. "And this is Stephany." The woman, presumably Mrs. Andrews, gestured to a teen similar in height and body structure as Gregor with the blackest hair and the darkest eyes. Stephany's eyes latched immediately onto Gregor's own and glared intently, scrutinizing his physical features.

Gregor's intense eyes screened the teenage beauty with the exact same keen interest. He stepped forward cautiously, knowing that she would be startled, and held out his hand. "Hello. I am Gregor. It Is Nice To Meet You."

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><p><strong>REVIEW <strong>

**Hey, **

**So, am I the only one who hates Grace? Because that woman irks me! I mean, I love her commitment, its just, lay off, your son is in love, don't take it from him. I just can't stand her. I really wish Ms. Collins would have given Gregor a mother who deserved a son like him and would have let him stay in the Underland. I really would have loved that. It would have made the entire difference for me. **

**Any ways, anyone want to guess what my current obsession is? Well, it's the HUNGER GAMES MOVIE! **

**I am soo psyched for it! 78 days till it comes out, and I am already planning on seeing the midnight premiere!**

**I also have been obsessing over the soundtrack, you should check it out, Taylor Swift has a song on it that she did with The Civil Wars. It is called Safe and Sound. You can totally hear the amazing connection with the movie. Also the song, Deep Shadows from the trailer, gives me chills. Check them out.**

**One last thing, check out the review button down there!**

**~AssassinAuthor**

**And sorry that I didn't reailze I had re-posted chapter 9. Thank you BreeT!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello. I am so sorry and deeply troubled about how long it has been. I did not mean to neglect, nor had I given up on this chapter. However, I have excuses: Musical, homework, PSSA's(Standerzided testing), National HIstory Day, clubs & after school activies and more. sorry Here you go! ****Disclaimer: Do I own anchient Rome? HOw about my own computer? Or Mars? Do I own Willy Wonka? NO. So this is also out of my claim.**

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><strong>Chapter 12: Let Us Finish This<strong>

Stephany declined the outstretched hand and opted to give a formal and familiar nod of her wary features, cooled with distrust, her senses sharp and eyes alert. She was awaiting the presence of danger and had reluctantly stretched to graciously accept its distasteful embrace.

The actions that were taken here surprised Gregor deeply, for he had assumed that this dark haired beauty, Stephany, would accept his welcoming gesture with excitement listing over her face rather than unwelcoming emotions washing all but the expatiation of deception from her pale skin.

During the brief exchange, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had eyed the deeds cautiously, ready to take action if need be. When Gregor dropped his rejected hand, relief flooded Mr. Andrews face. This occurrence, to him, was considered progress. No blood had been spilled since no physical contact had even been experienced. It was obvious that he had expected something drastic to occur, and he was visibly relieved that no calls would be made explaining something that was absolutely impossible to explain.

Throughout this experience, Lynn had watched, amused. She had been terrified that Steph would have done something that would reveal too much. Although she hadn't expressed her concern in any form, it would have been evident to her dark haired sister if she had broken her staring contest and turned around. Lynn had stood in the corner of the room, leaning on the kitchen cabinet and holding Tommy's child sized hand protectively. Lynn knew her sister would refuse to shake the boy's hand as soon as he had held it out, but had not been expecting the absolute refusal to acknowledge the fact that he had even gone the distance to welcome her. She gave him a nod that was customary to the dark haired girl. This was the sister Lynn was proud of to the point of boasting and the sister that she would die for out of love.

Lynn could spy her mother gently shaking her head sadly, for this was against the way she had wished the situation to play out. Lynn was frustrated that Mrs. Andrews wished to control her daughter's life. It made everyone even more frustrated then they were before the confrontation began.

Mr. Andrews shifted his weight from his right foot to his left. "Alright; Gregor, we know your name, and you now know our names. Don't you think you should introduce these two to us?" He nodded to Lizzie and Boots.

Gregor nodded in agreement, and proceeded to acquaint Boots and Lizzie with the Andrews.

Mr. Andrews picked up the conversation again. "Well, I suppose you should be off. Girls, try to be home before dinner." He hugged Lynn who returned it, then faced Steph who ruefully accepted it, not bothering to give back the kind gesture.

With a glower, Stephany exited the apartment, not looking behind but following the retreating backs of Lynn and Lizzie. Gregor held open the door for her using the hand Lizzie had relinquished her grip on. He still cradled Boots, who watched everyone with wide eyes.

The cluster pounded down the metal steps in the stairwell without a word spoken. Once they reached the unkempt lobby, Lynn placed her hands on her hips and turned to face Gregor, who was the last to leave the stairwell and had let the heavy metal door close with a hollow bang. "Where are we going?" Lynn prompted Gregor.

He did not meet anyone's gaze as he answered. "Down the street, make a right and go straight for 3 blocks. It is the large grey building."

Lynn nodded as she took the lead to follow his directions. The silence ate at the group of five as the carefully threaded their way down the crowded, bustling street.

Stephany was not used to being constantly pushed and pulled through a crowd, changing her direction at sporadic moments. She had been sliding past a large, red-faced man in a tan overcoat who was clutching a newspaper and coffee cup in one hand, swinging a worn leather brief case from his other, when he jerked to the side, making Stephany stumble forward, lose her footing and head for the cracked cement sidewalk.

Gregor, who had his eyes trained on the black-haired girl, lunged ahead and grasped her forearm, catching and stopping her momentum. He smoothly pulled her to her feet and led her away before the crowd could influence her direction.

Stephany deftly threw a disproving look to the back of Gregor's head. Through specific skills he was knowledgeable of the look being directed his way, and cleared his throat and frowned back at the girl, with the indication that expressions would get her nowhere.

At this moment, Steph had the realization that the teen leading her had not taken his hand off her arm. She yanked it out of his grasp angrily and stumbled as she did so. Gregor turned back again with the perfect timing to witness her stumble. He smirked and grabbed Stephany's hand this time, calling over his shoulder, "You need _someone_ to help you. Without it, you would have already been trampled." As he spoke, Stephany tugged her hand away, which in turn just made Gregor enforce his grip. "Stop fooling around, we already lost your sister."

This remark made Stephany crane her neck and scan the crowd. Ahead of them, a blond head bobbed with the flow of the people. "Come on, let's catch up." Stephany, to say the least, was anxious being apart from her sister and alone with the stranger.

Stephany somehow managed to push forward and tug at Gregor's hand encouragingly. He just yanked her back and said, "No, stay back. My sisters know where we are going. Lynn will be fine." He had been peering straight ahead, looking for gaps in the crowd, but paused and took a moment to cast a glance at Steph. "Meanwhile, I have a question for you."

Stephany's gaze never left his features, trying hard to decipher his intentions. She decided it was not worth putting up a fight. "Fine. Ask away." Then she promptly swung her head forward.

Gregor grunted, obviously expecting more of a protest. "Yesterday, in the lobby, why were you staring at me?"

Stephany blinked and huffed, "_That _is your question?" Gregor shot a serious look in response to her inquiry.

"Yes, that _is _my question." He rolled his eyes slightly and tugged Stephany's wrist to get her to turn the corner, following Lynn, Lizzie and Boot's path.

"I thought it would have been evident, but if you insist on having me spell it out, I was staring at you because _you_ were staring at _me_." Stephany squinted and used her free hand to shield her eyes from the sun. _'When will he let go of my hand? If Mom and Dad corroborated to get me romantically involved with him, I will kill them. There is no way any city boy could get me to forget _him. _No one could get me to forget.' _Steph's emotions now turned sour, referring to the horrible splitting.

Gregor snorted at her response, it had absolutely not been the answer he had anticipated.

Hearing his snort, Steph swung her head around to glare a Gregor. "Considering you seemingly deemed my answer unfit, mind answering a question for me?"

Gregor nodded his head, preparing for her onslaught of inquisition.

"Why were you staring at me? And I have this certain ability to tell when someone is lying, so no cheating." she met his eyes waiting for his response, hoping he hadn't caught her bluff.

The recipient of the inquisition squinted and shook his head, "_I _thought it would have been evident, but if you insist I will spell it out for you." He almost joked, and the second use of her own words were not lost on Stephany, who in response rolled her eyes and muttered for him to continue. "In New York, especially in my apartment building, it is very rare for us to have new tenants move into our building. Especially if the new tenants are or have children. _That," _He enunciated. "Is why I was watching you."

Steph frowned and huffed her breath out of her mouth, blowing the dark strands of hair that had floated before her eyes out of view. It had not been the sort of response that she had anticipated. It was rather a weak reply, in her opinion. The answer did not fill all the aspects of her inquiry. For instance, it did not answer why Gregor had kept his eyes on Stephany in particular rather than her parents, Lynn or Tom. It simply avoided the question sent his way.

'_This boy,' _thought Stephany, _'has a slick tongue. He knows how to lie and how to talk his way out of an issue. Dangerous.' _

Gregor broke into her thoughtful silence by leading her around a bend and shuffling against the flow of the crowded sidewalk, sliding up along the grey building he had described earlier.

When the pair reached Lynn's trio, who were also stationed near a brick wall adjacent to the school building, they were met with multiple and varying reactions. Lynn's had been to abruptly end her light discussion with the pixyish Lizzie and clamp her jaw down in a disapproving manner towards Gregor's hand, which was still firmly grasping Stephany's own. When Lynn had disengaged from the moderately smooth conversation that Lizzie had been enjoying for the most part, the small girl's immediate reaction was to observe what was occurring that had set the older girl's emotions in the opposite direction. Soon afterward, Lizzie's glancing around ended with the sight of Gregor's and Steph's clasped hands, which impulsively caused her eyes to crinkle and eyebrows to crunch together in confusion. While this was going on, the youngest participant, the toddler Boots, stretched her arms eagerly towards her brother and began calling his name and seeking attention that she believed was owed to her.

Gregor released Stephany's pale hand from his continuous grasp and outstretched his arms gladly to Boots, who climbed and curled into his embrace.

The moment Stephany felt the boy with the dark eyes relinquish his grip, she rubbed her hand with the opposite one, for it felt empty, cold and missing some sort of important, substantial element. Shaking her head absentmindedly, she dismissed the thought. '_I should have just tried harder. Then we never would have left Washington.' _

Lynn cleared her throat as if it could clear away the awkward feeling in the air, and began to speak. "Is this the school? It is bigger then the one we went to in Washington."

Gregor nodded, "Yes, this is it. The building holds several grades for the school district…"

The young man's outpour of information kept flowing, however Lynn had lost all patience for details and noticed quiet little Lizzie tugging at her sleeve. The blond teen squatted to hear Lizzie's comments.

Within the few minutes of commute to the grey building, Lynn had taken a liking to the thin, shy girl after having a rather detailed conversation on codes and how to crack a rather challenging one.

Lizzie swiftly moved over to Gregor's side and swiped up his hand. "Gregor?" He shifted his gaze to his sister. "Can we go now?"

Gregor scrunched up his eyes and teased, "I thought you liked school Lizzie. Why are you not glad to be here?"

Lizzie smiled and laughed lightly. "I want to go home and finish my homework. So, can you hurry up? Please?"

Gregor returned her humor but before he was allowed a response, Lynn broke in, "Yeah, Steph and I still have some unpacking to do. I know its Saturday, but I want to be rested before school starts." She waited, then hurriedly added, "If you want to."

Gregor nodded, accepting. "Let Us Finish This."

* * *

><p><strong>Hey!<strong>

**I apoligize yet again. However, a few pieces of good news:**

**1. I have a delightful and very thorough beta! VotumAstrum, I salute you for this chapter. I love this author, she keeps me laughing insanely throughout the day and we have our epic moments.**

**2. I have taken this project back on, it's full fledged and always on my mind. Plenty of plot twists to come.**

**3. One of the reasons for my absence was NHD. Well, I did a project for National HIstory Day and spent every single minute on it. Seriously. I stayed after school until 7:30 one night to finish. I did it on Jane Grey Swisshelm, if you don't know her, look her up. She is fascinating. I mean she had a PANTHER as a PET!**

**4. I saw the Hunger Games movie twice! Hopefully to be three times! PM me or in your review, give me your opinion. **

**5. Masters Reading Competition at my school. a competition when teams read a book then get quizzed on it. We, the Avengers, have a two wins and one tie.(Grrr, Votum, Grr.)**

**6. Saint Patrick's day! I had a great day at the parade, aside from almost dying from heat stroke and dehydration. I'm not kidding. In Pittsburgh, the parade was over 2 miles, we had to walk and dance that wearing black sweaters, sweatpants and a turtle neck shirt. **

**So, expect more from me. I'll be hanging around more and reviewing many stories. **

**Please REVIEW!  
><strong>

**~AssassinAuthor**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello! Just want to put the author's note first, since there shall be a cliff-hanger! And major thanks to all the reviewers. Give a rowdy applause to VotumAstrum, my delightful, laughter filled, crazy, halirious, and owner of a constantly vandalised locker, beta!**

**I wish to apologize for the laterness, for I had a semi-formal dance, Themepark school picnic, Irish dance, Dance team, and camping trip. I also wish to say I wrote this at about 3 am. So, any all horrible writing aside, READ ON!**

**Disclaimer: If I was Suzanne Collins, I would not need to apologize for late or horrible writing. Everyone would be thrilled enough to read anything.**

**Chapter 13: A Tribute To A Lost Friend**

The haunted stillness and silence of the empty royal bed chamber abruptly erupted in arguing tones, heated debates, and pounded steps as the group of three pale skinned beings burst through the entryway.

They passed through the ached doorway, shoving away the thick material of the curtain aside.

"Stop! Stop this madness!", the young female voice rang out as its owner whirled to face the two underlanders who accompanied her. When her commanding tone sounded, their argument abruptly ceased.

"Howard! Why do you pester me in such a way? I had only and will always have the good of my people at heart." Luxa sighed, turning away from her taller relative, urging the companion that gripped her hand to mimic her movement. "What I ask, cousin, is that for you to understand my objection to the council, and not to argue with my action of disbanding it."

"Luxa," Howard paused, carefully selecting his words, for he knew his cousin would read in to every syllable, and take any offense greatly. "Cousin, I do understand your decision. However, I cannot support it. No matter how powerful, wise, and great a leader you are, you will still need the power, wisdom and greatness of others to guide you. I, above most others, am well aware of your capabilities when it comes to decision making and leading. But you need the Regalian Council!"

"Howard, quit your unceasing whining! It is not as if I gave the land to the cutters! Nor have I done a deed as harsh as disbanding the Council of the Underland. I merely told the elders that if they proposed one more day in celebration of the," Luxa paused to inhale a deep breath, the distress evident in her trembling, monotones. "the Warrior's triumph, I shall throw each of them into the dungeon. Then I dismissed them from their current occupations."

"Luxa!", groaned the doctor. "I do not believe your arrogance!"

The named young woman took immediate anger, settling her face in an irate expression. Releasing the green-eyed boy's pale hand, she crossed her arms in the manner of a pouting child and growled ferociously with a fierce face. The queen spun on her heel, facing her taller cousin that was, surprisingly, in the same defiant pose.

When Howard glimpsed at her irritation, his stance softened, along with his voice and message. "Luxa, cousin, is it not time yet to move past your relationship with Gregor?"

Luxa's response was to spin back around, and march straight to the entrance, where she promptly fell to the floor as a large figure burst to the royal chambers.

Growling, Ripred addressed the queen glaring at him from the ground as she shoved her golden band further off her forehead, "You know, Your Highness, lounging on the floor of the palace might attract unwanted gossip."

"About what?", snapped Luxa. "Royalty cleaning the floors?" she shoved herself up, regaining her feet, and plopped down onto the lavish bed at which sat her half-lander brother.

The gnawer slinked through the room, coming to rest at the foot of an ornate chest carved from pure granite. He leapt on top of it, and observed the room and its occupants thoroughly. "Your sarcasm is well noted, my queen," he said. She replied with a gentle nod, but a firmly closed jaw. "But that's not why I'm here. I came to tell you that I agree."

At his deceleration, Luxa's jaw became unhinged, and widened to a level beyond previously perceived possible. Ripred did the Gnawer's gesture synonymous to a human's raised eyebrow. "What can I say?" he shrugged. "They were getting on my nerves. I couldn't stand them another minute."

The queen, at this point, had shut her mouth and sent a victorious smirk in her cousin's direction.

"Oh, yeah." The gnawer continued. "I also came by to say I'm taking the day off. Have to clear up some, er, let's say, 'home decorating' issues. It seems some one has decided to neglect the proper management of partially gnawed bones." he sighed and shook his head.

Luxa snorted. "Proper? What do you know of proper management, or proper anything at that!" Howard and Hazard nodded, the younger boy's lollipop green eyes shimmered in the sparse torch light, as he picked and plucked at the odd Regalian sandals he had been given. As a previous jungle resident, he was unadjusted to the odd footwear. However, having out-grown his hisser-skin boots, he was forced to wear the customary Regalian's slipper-sandals, however uncomfortable he found them.

Ripred just guffawed at their opinions, managing to escape the room with hardly a flick of his ratty tail.

Luxa sighed over their antics, lying down on the bed, pulling Hazard near her, to feel his warmth and remember that, once again, she was not alone in her spaciously empty palace.

"I have an idea." She announced rather quickly, standing up, and beginning to pace. "Why do we not go on a picnic?", Luxa spun to see the boy's reactions.

Howard's grin slowly spread, ear-to-ear, "A picnic, cousin? You mean to suggest an outing after the atrocious disaster the last one was?"

Hazard, now sitting up, nodded and laughed, tossing his head of black curls back as his forehead tipped back in mirth. "Yes! A picnic! Because the last time, I ended up needing weeks in bed recovering! And didn't you start a war?"

The trio was completely shaken with laughs, brushing off the medical and political worries that usually loomed over their heads. "Alright, alright. No wars this time!" Luxa managed to gasp out. "This time, a real picnic. And I know just the location."

-Pardon me, I'm a page break!-

Nike and aurora soared over grain fields, lakes and ponds, rocky cliffs, only to wind up at an all too familiar cave.

The three Underlanders dismounted the flyers, tugging at food hampers, and entering the grey terrain.

Hazard was extremely quiet by the time food had been set out and torches lit.  
>"Hazard, what is wrong? Is something bothering you?", Luxa asked with sincere concern, while Nike, Howard, and Aurora flew off to explore deeper into the tunnels, with the promise to return after awhile.<p>

"I'm fine," the boy answered quickly. "It's just...isn't, I mean, wasn't this Ares cave?"

Luxa nodded, suddenly taking a senile appearance. "It was. Still is, in a way." The teenager's eyes roamed the walls, scraping off every tidbit and detail from the eroded walls.

"How?" Hazard's eyes once again lit up with curiosity as he tugged a hand through his mass of curls.

Luxa's smile that fell on the boy was tinged with sadness, but she managed to place her hands on his shoulders and lead him through a small alcove. The alcove resembled a shallow indent; however, it was truly a tunnel hidden in shadows.

The tunnel led to a small cave. In the center was a clear, shallow pond, the surface still, calm, not living. The walls were chipped, battered, but maintained the showcase of reflective crystals and precious gems, decorating the area naturally. Nevertheless, the focal point of the cave was the far wall. A block of rock had been polished and engraved. Small treasures; a statue, a nugget of gold, an heirloom dagger, all sat arranged on the base, like offerings to a spirit.

Luxa directed Hazard forward, nearing the polished rock. When he was close enough, practically leaning against the boulder, it came above his hip, mid stomach, and wider than any man's shoulders.

Hazard skimmed the carving, studying the structure, not the message. Each character had been carved carefully, obviously a master's work. The inscription read:

Qui obiit in bello, quando,  
>Fortis, fortis, potens<br>Nemo mortuus et reliquit  
>Emptier spatium, quam amicus.<p>

The words made no sense to the young boy, confused, he looked to Luxa.

Understanding his expression, Luxa translated, "It means:

Of all who died in the War if Time,  
>The brave, the strong, the powerful,<br>None died and left an emptier space,  
>Than you, my friend."<p>

As she spoke, the queen's eyes welled up with tears, which spilled onto her face. Memories of her deceased friend overwhelmed the young woman. So much loss had been experienced by both young figures. The queen leaned over, grasping the edges of the stone, tears dripping onto the engraving.

Hazard was and wrapped his arms around her shaking waist. Luxa turned to her brother, her grief was reflected in his expression. Crouching down, she took him in her arms and the two siblings cried for their companion.

-Pardon me, just a lil' break-

After a period, the two had settled against the wall, with Luxa holding Hazard, who was still emotional. Suddenly, a clambering noise, such as claws on stone echoed from the entrance of the main cavern. Luxa slowly angled her head to Hazard, whose bright eyes were wide with fright. Slowly, she relinquished her grip on the boy, whom pulled away slowly and stood. Luxa crouched, silently slipping her thin swords from her belt, and slipping through the alcove, with Hazard close behind.

The queen sprang from her crouch, preparing to attack the black object in front of her. However, at the last second, she jerked away, blade banging against the wall.

A terrified high-pitched screech bounced around the cave. The dark blob, now reviled to be a flyer, extended its wings to gain balance.

The teenager, realizing what she gazed upon asked a tentative question. "Ares!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the things I do not own.

Chapter 14: A Most Dreadful Experience

Stephany lay on the cushioned mattress of her recently made bed. The bed sheets were the same ones from her pleasant and comforting room in Washington, and reminded her of her previous life. Stephany closed her eyes and blankly ran the activities of roughly an hour ago through her mind.

_Stephany stormed into her packed up bedroom, slamming the peeled-paint door behind her. She heard raised voices through the thin walls of the apartment as she pulled herself onto her made bed. She quickly let out a breath and pushed her legs against her chest, wrapping one arm around her folded knees and grabbing a worn pillow with the other, stuffing her hot face into it. A heartening and reassuring scent enveloped the black haired girl as she stilled her mind and slowed her racing pulse._

_Footsteps pounded, the sound increased in volume, and the door flew open. Lynn charged in, her rage evident through the expression on her face, which could hardly be seen through the blond hair that was obscuring her eyes._

"_I cannot believe that woman! To talk to you and me in such a way! Urgh! Why does she do this all the time? It's like she doesn't-" Lynn raged on, expressing her obvious distaste in Mrs. Andrew's parenting styles. However, she was brought to an abrupt halt when she registered the tears cascading over Stephany's cheeks and rolling down her slightly pointed chin, dyeing navy drops on her light blue t-shirt as they fell. "Steph, honey." Lynn's voice was gentle, for she was unwilling to provoke more tears from her sister._

"_No. Don't say what you don't mean," said Stephany as she kept her eyes trained steadily on the plain white pillow that she had cradled in her lap. She raised her trembling hand to wipe her eyes and nose. "I know you love Mom."_

_Lynn narrowed her eyes as she comprehended her younger sister's words. "You aren't mad at Mom, are you?", implored Lynn._

_Stephany shook her head; Lynn was right. She knew Stephany that well._

"_Then what is it, sweetie?" Lynn asked as she advanced toward Steph's bed._

_The black-haired girl sniffed. "Don't call me 'sweetie'." A little bit of Steph's customary strict tone sounded through her pain. "And….and….I-I just….MISS them. I miss HIM." And with her announcement, the façade she had used to mask her pain crumbled. She wept as Lynn sat down and took her into her arms._

"_I know, I know baby girl. I know. So do I. I miss them too." Lynn comforted her younger sibling._

Thomas released from his throat a horrible screeching call, tears draining from his eyes and coating his cheeks with a clear coat of sorrow. As the young boy was tormented by a nightmare, only his insomniac sister knew of his troubles and acted upon them when she heard him call out.

Stephany shoved her thick and slightly worn-out covers off of her long, plaid pajama bottom clad legs and swiftly tore her gaze from the brightly flashing lights that were shining through the uncovered window. She did not stumble once as she planted her feet on the thinly carpeted floor. Using one hand to wretch open the door from her shared room into the hallway, she absentmindedly pushed her thick black hair from her eyes and, with long strides, paraded down the hall to his room, which shared a left wall with her own.

Steph knocked lightly, mumbling through the slightly ajar door, "It's me. I'm coming in."

Immediately, Thomas began to weep. His loud sobs woke the rest of the family in a startling moment. Lynn burst through the door, her too long pajama bottoms causing her to slip slightly on the wood floor. She caught her balance on the door frame.

"Tom, Tom! Are you okay?" Lynn asked, almost pleading, as she hurried to join Stephany, who was hugging Thomas tightly.

Their brother was clearly shaken-up; his startlingly blue eyes produced tears at an uncommon speed, his nose was running, and the normally tan face of the young boy was bright red. Steph glanced beseechingly to Lynn who came over and took her 10 year old brother in her arms. She spoke in a soft voice as Stephany continued to caress his dark hair off his forehead. A shadow overlapped her empathy for Tom as her mother strode to the door entry.

"Yes, Mother?" Stephany spoke, her voice tight and calm, deadly. She narrowed her eyes in distrust as Mrs. Andrews' jaw snapped open in a way that could be only described in this phrase: Young-Lady-This-Is-your-mother-you-are-speaking-to-so-you-better-as-hell-watch-your-language-and-tone-because-I-surely-do-not-appreciate-it.

"What are you girls doing out of bed?" Mrs. Andrews' dark black hair was pulled back in a sleep ruined ponytail, but she had taken the time to wrap a fleece blanket around her shoulders before responding to her son's agonized screams.

"Mom," Lynn broke in, not wanting this late night discussion turn into an, as they claimed, "heated debate" over her younger sister's attitude and life choices. "We just came to check on Tommy…" She trailed off as their mother interrupted.

"Oh did you? Well, you do know I was coming, right? I am his MOTHER. Did you think I would neglect him?" She was on a rage now, her hands gestured unnaturally, showing the full extent of her anger.

"No, no, no," backtracked Lynn. She glanced uneasily at her siblings, almost asking for help. "Our bedroom is closer, so we thought-"

Mrs. Andrews was not paying attention as she lounged against the door with her arms crossed, and interrupted once again, "You three have school in the morning. Go. To. Bed. Now."

Lynn glared half-heartedly, and let go of Tommy -the little boy was already drifting back to sleep- and shot a warning to Stephany with her eyes, "Don't argue! Just listen!" When Steph refused to rise and exit the room, Lynn lunged over and grasped her younger sisters forearm as she continued to retaliate, albeit, silently.

They crossed past their mother and the middle child could not resist bumping forcefully against her shoulder. As obviously as penguins fly (A/N VOTUM. Dis ezz fow yew!), Mrs. Andrews was not pleased.

Mr. Andrews sat on the edge of Stephany's messy and blanket strewn bed, his eyes were still clouded with sleep as he rubbed them feebly, the plain gold wedding band on his fourth finger glinted off the light shining in from Thomas's room. His blue and grey plaid pajama bottom clad legs were stretched out and crossed at his ankles.

He got up and treaded slowly to the door. When he reached it, he lowered his head and placed a kiss on Lynn's forehead, whispering in her ear before moving closer to Stephany. Lynn lay down in her bed, feigning sleep.

Mr. Andrews approached Stephany, who glared at him from underneath her wild bed-head. He pulled her into a half hug, gently grabbing her forearms to pull her close. He kissed the top of her head, then whispered "I love you," carefully near her ear.

Stephany glanced up, making -but not maintaining- eye contact, and muttered in a nearly silent voice, "Me too."

Once her father departed, she crawled under her blankets and stared out her window at the strangeness of New York City, wishing for the stillness of underground.

Gregor awoke in a rough and disoriented manner. His younger sisters, Lizzie and Boots, were climbing on top of him and were bouncing up and down while giggling and screeching, their hair flapping and their smiles illuminating the dim, minuscule room.

"Gregor! Gregor! Wake up! Hehehehe!" Boots's voice came out garbled from her repeated bobbling on his chest and stomach. He managed to smile at them, even though he was in a slight physical discomfort. Boots, for sure, was not the small little thing that he used to clutch to his chest and carry around. In addition, it had been a while since Lizzie had sprouted past four feet.

"Come here, you!" Gregor sat up, and tackled Boots in a hug, she giggled unceasingly as her older brother managed to blow raspberries on her stomach and frizz her brown curls. Lizzie followed in suit, collapsing on her back next to Gregor and Boots.

After a few moments of increased tickling, laughter, and childish foolishness, Gregor, being the oldest sibling, wrangled up his sister and ushered them out of his room. "Come on now, I have to get dressed!" he replied to their protests at being thrown out in a superfluous amount of mirth. He slipped into a pair of dark jeans with lighter worn patches over the knees, a white t-shirt that advertised his school, and a pair of good, durable sneaker that were past their peak.

He hurried through his morning routine in the bathroom, and rushed into the kitchen for a speedy breakfast. His sisters were already finished and standing by the door, waiting for Gregor to eat then escort them to school. He grabbed a bagel, and drank some mouthfuls of juice.

"Gregor," His dad called, walking into the kitchen just as his son yanked open the door to the outside hall where Lizzie and Boots were waiting. He set an empty glass on the table before throwing Gregor a light jacket. "You'll need it, Son. That October wind's picking up." He poured himself a glass of orange juice, and glanced up, a small smile lighing up his slightly aged face. "Have fun."

Gregor was slipping the jacket on, but smiled and said, "Dad, its school. When's it ever fun?"

His dad laughed heartedly, but it soon turned to a cough, and he waved goodbye as his children left.

Gregor's smile faded as he shut the door. His dad had a relapse four days ago, and still hadn't recovered enough to return to his teaching job. Nevertheless, he was on his way to being fully healed.

Gregor grabbed Boot's hand as he turned around, but out of his peripheral vision caught sight of movement on the other side of the hall. He craned his neck and glimpsed four people heading towards them. It was the Andrews.

"Gregor!" Mrs. Andrews absolutely crooned. "Hello! Hi, Lexi! Hi, Beth!"

"My name's Boots!" the owner of the name corrected the older woman. "And she's Lizzie!" The little girl slurred the "s" slightly, and pronounced the "L" in Lizzie with the subtlest amount of a "W".

"Well, I am very sorry!" her voice was slightly high-pitched as she spoke to the youngest of the siblings. She glanced behind her, Lynn griped the strap of her messenger bag and sent the trio an apologetic glance and pleaded her mother to quit talking with a mental message. Thomas, the youngest, hung off his mother's hand and stared at them, but achieved the feat of a bored expression. Stephany, the dark-haired middle child, had her arms folded, her face was completely blank. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she stared past, barely showing any indication that she even noticed the confrontation that was occurring.

Mrs. Andrews pushed through the awkward lull in verbal communication as she made a startling announcement. "Why don't I drive you to school?" She said it so brightly; anyone passing by would have thought all reaction would be positive. In fact, all responses were negative.

"Mom-" Lynn began to warn her, when Stephany broke in.

"Mother. Quit it. Stop being lame." Her tone was completely blunt. The tone of voice and lack of respect shocked Lizzie, but had no effect of Boots, for she was young enough to lack the attention span of tuning in on a full length conversation. At Steph's words, Gregor could barely contain a reaction, but let an arched eyebrow slip out. "Stephany Lee Andrews, you apologize this minute." Her mother demanded, unaware that she was causing a scene.

"No." Stephany firmly defied, and still, her gaze remained steadily fixed, towards the end of the hall. Until she turned her piercing gaze onto Gregor, who just so happened to be watching her intently. "We'll just walk."

And with her determination in set, she strode past her mother, sister, brother and neighbors, and forcefully punched the down button, making an endeavor to call the elevator.

"It won't come," Gregor spoke for the first time. "It's been down for a while. Everyone complains, but nobody does anything. We'll have to take the stairs." He watched Stephany's back as she gave the elevator door a last look of disgust. And for the first time, he noticed she was clothed entirely in an outfit that corresponded with her hair. She wore black skinny jeans, black converse, black messenger bag, black tank top that was covered by a long-sleeved black see-through shirt.

Gregor walked over silently to the door and led the way through the stair well. At the bottom, he stayed, holding the door stationary with his back as Lizzie, who was now holding Boots's hand, walked past, along with Mrs. Andrews, Thomas, and Lynn. When Stephany crossed in front of him, her shoulder brushed against his chest, along with her messenger bag across his gut. She turned her neck so fast, glancing at him, he was sure she had received whiplash.

In that instant, he noticed two things. The first, that she was pale, very pale. And secondly, she had a pale, silvery scar peeking out of the top of her shirt, at the base of her neck. It was a triangle, and seemed to be longer. It reminded him of his scars.

When they arrived at school, Gregor and Stephany split up from Lynn. Lynn, being two years older, had classes in the other side of the building. The school day was boring for Steph, considering the classes had little students and all students rotated through their schedule together.

In each class, Steph was assigned a seat, given a supply list, and then promptly zoned out during the lesson until the bell rang.

In her fifth period class, right before lunch, desks were arranged in clusters of four, all facing inward. Steph happened to be placed next to Gregor.

During of a particularly boring lecture, an open notebook slid onto her desk with the words, 'Sit with me at lunch?' printed messily on the blank page.

Stephany glanced at Gregor who happened to be staring out the window. She wrote back, 'Why?'

He replied, ''Cuz you don't have anyone else to sit with.'

She scribbled down, 'Yeah I do; Lynn.'

Gregor rolled his eyes as the bell went off. "Well invite her too." He gathered his things together and paused. "Don't worry. I actually have friends. We'll sit with them."

Steph rolled her eyes, "As long as they talk more than you."

Stephany followed Gregor -who never glanced back- to the cafeteria, where they grabbed the maroon hard plastic trays and joined the end of the line where other hungry students waited.

When the dark haired girl laid her eyes on the food available, she audibly gagged. Gregor looked over his shoulder and sent her a questioning look.

Stephany muttered, "I don't eat garbage like that. It's disgusting."

Gregor smirked, "It's cafeteria food. What did you expect?" This statement caused Steph to roll her eyes. When the line moved forward, she chose a wilted salad, an apple and a half-edible bread roll. She paid for her lunch and was guided by Gregor to a table where a girl and a boy already sat. The girl had dark brown hair, some of which was dyed hot pink, neon green, and electric blue at the ends. She studied a thick stack of papers in front of her with blue eyes hidden behind thin framed glasses. Overall, she looked to be short but extremely thin. She nudged the boy who sat next to her. His hair was short and slightly sandy-red. He wore thick framed glasses. He was drawing something with lots of intricate lines on a napkin, but occasionally he would straighten his slouched posture when his body was racked with heavy coughs.

"Hey," Gregor said to them as he pulled out a seat. "Guys, this is Steph."

"Hi!" The girl said. Her voice was high-pitched and cheerful, and she switched her gaze from the papers to Steph and looked her up and down. "Cool outfit! I'm Angelina." She jerked an elbow into the ribs of the guy seated by her. "And this is Larry. _Say hi, Larry_." She said the last sentence in an almost threatening manner to the boy, however he obeyed immediately.

"Hi," Larry was quiet, but scanned Steph in the same manner. In a causal conversation mode, he asked Gregor, "So is _this _your girlfriend?"

Gregor, who had previously been munching down on a slice of pizza, jerked his head up. "No, Larry. Steph is my neighbor." He did not even bother to look at Stephany's reaction.

Steph lowered her head, pulling out a plastic chair, and she sat down next to Gregor, across from Larry. She numbly took a bite of her apple.

Angelina gazed sadly at her. "I'm sorry. Ever since Larry and Gregor had a fight over why neither of them hit on girls and Gregor _claimed_ he had a girlfriend, Larry has been uptight about it." She explained it nonchalantly. But every word was caught in Stephany's memory.

Angelina began chatting, aiming questions at Steph, which she answered bluntly, yet truthfully. Once Angelina took up a conversation with Gregor and Larry, Steph zoned out. Her mind raced, she thought of all the possibilities until the bell rang.

"Come on," Gregor said to Steph. "This is where we throw out our garbage."

He led her over to the plastic bins and they disposed of their trash and stacked the trays haphazardly.

"Wait. Stop," Stephany said. Gregor turned to ask what she needed; nevertheless, she cut him off. "You have a girlfriend." There was no question. A statement.

"Uh….ye-no. Um. It's complicated." He avoided a direct answer.

Stephany gazed at him patiently; he was a good four inches taller, so his eyes floated above her forehead. "It's okay. I understand complicated." She spoke softly.

"We were separated. For some interesting reasons." His eyes stayed on the crowd of students gathered around the door, the gaggle pressed around the two people who stood now silent.

Stephany swallowed hard. "That's it. We NEED to talk. In private."

For the first time, he dropped his eyes to meet hers. "Okay. We'll go to a park."

"Central park? I haven't been there. Ever. It'd be neat." She sounded genuinely like a sightseeing tourist, the first time she showed any interest in this grimy, grubby, loud city.

Gregor met her evenly, "Alright. After school. We'll talk. But drop the subject now. I don't want anyone to hear."

Steph smiled, the first Gregor had seen. However, it was less joyful, more patronizing. "Good."

"Let's get to class, A Most Dreadful Experience."

**A/n: So guys. I'm sorry. Truly. I apologize. It has been way too long. And thanks to all who have stuck through with it. **

**Okay, a few things. This is super long to over compensate. Secondly. This is being uploaded by my beta (say hi VotumAstrum!) because I am in vacation in Gettysburg and Virginia beach. So a huge round of applause to her. Thirdly, happy July fourth to all of us Americans! Fourthly, happy Canada day! Fifthly, July 6th is my birthday so this is my present to each of you! I'm fourteen! Soooooo. Lots of love to all yinz.**

**I want to say, I love each and every review I have received. Seriously, last time I checked, 63! You all are EPIC. **

**So I'll give Votum the honor of saying whatever is on her mind since she gets to step outta the silent shadows of beta-ship. **

**Hello all of you AssassinAuthor fans! This is VotumAstrum here! Fabulous story so far, am I right? HAHAHA! Do you think crushed pecans or crushed peanuts would look like sand? I guess we'll just have to find out! Thanks for reading this very longggggg awesome chapter. Guess what? I GOT TO WRITE THE DISCLAIMER! YESSSS! Well see ya! Ciao! Vale! Hasta la vista!**

**P.S: If you were confused about the flying penguin thing in the 23****rd**** paragraph, don't worry. It's a longish story. Let's just say Mrs. Andrews was not pleased at all.**

**P.P.S: Review you people! If you took the time to read this story at all, no matter if you liked it, loved it, or if it wasn't really your thing, please review (no flames please, compliments and constructive criticism only) and say what you liked and/or things that you think would make it better. REVIEW! (Or face the wrath of an angry beta)**


	15. Chapter 15

**AssassinAuthor here. I am back! Two things, 1) I neeeeeeed to thank VotumAstrum, my beta, for editing this, on new year's eve. And emailing it to me at 1 am so I could post it. I love you, I rely on you, and you are necessary to my function. 2) Thank you, to everyone who reviewed the chapter I put up explaining my condition. It has improved. My dad is better, but we are still on uneven ground. I think that because of everyone who even just thought about my family, we healed faster. Thank you, it all means freakish amounts to me.**

**Disclaimer: As a wizard, I know not the function of a rubber duck, nor do I own Underworld Chronicles.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15 Part 1: Quite An Unnerving Prospect<strong>

Lyon fought with fortitude. Adrenaline was unleashed throughout his veins; focusing him on his goal.

Winning. Beating. Outmaneuvering. Succeeding. Living.

The fighting was rough; blood had flooded the cavern floor making the traction non-existent. The only thought from the regiment of soldiers was to fight to their fullest as the foot fighters swung their swords and the eagle-eyed archers pulled taunt their bow strings. They never once doubted their odyssey to be fruitless, for mistrust in their leader would result in their own death when they followed him into one of these particular situations.

It was naught a clumsy move or decision that landed the travelers into this battle; it had to be blamed upon the blood lust of their strongest enemy.

The armies slashed and slayed; husbands against husbands, fathers against fathers, and soldiers facing countless soldiers all to avenge an ancient wrong. No upper hand was gained until the shouts were heard. Not those of another species or language, but that of humans. Killers. And they indeed had come to kill. As if by ritual, the similar throng was greeted grimly, for the most ancient of battles had begun and sparked.

Lyon quickly cared not, and soon fought for vengeance. He was taking back his love.

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><p><strong>10 weeks earlier<strong>

The pain was immediate; slicing through his focus, up his wrist, and to his elbow. Lyon sucked in a sharp breath, dropping his double edged sword, collapsing to his knees in pain as he grabbed his injury, his sweaty palm quickly becoming coated in a slick film of warm blood.

"Erh!" He tightened his throat, eyes squeezed shut, with his teeth clenched and his head back.

He remained that way as a broad shouldered woman clothed entirely in black ran to his assistance, calling for a medic in a dense voice.

She knelt at his side and pushed his sweaty hand off the wound, her neck bent to allow her eyes the best access to assess the wound.

At first, Lyon had not acknowledged her aside from lowering his opposite hand off the blade's mark and intensely curling his fingers into a shaking fist. His breathing was so rapid and forced that barely any air entered his lungs. As his brain grew accustomed to the stabbing, stinging, and blistering of the pain, the presence of the woman was taken into account.

"Trying to get promoted by saving the king, Niovi [*]?" Lyon glimpsed at the dark clothed girl for a minuscule second before pain overcame him and tears welled up in his eyes. He shut them, not wanting weakness to be assumed by the onlookers.

The woman glanced up at him, her hands leaving his arm as they were replaced by a doctor's. Niovi shifted, now kneeling in front of him. She grabbed his blade from where it had fallen. For the moment, she cared not to answer her king's question. Instead she pulled a thin red scrap of material out of her right pocket while her left hand held the hilt of the sword perpendicular to the ground.

Niovi meticulously swiped the cloth over the sword, clearing it of the dripping crimson blood and allowing the full gleam of the metal to shine through the gore.

Once again she moved forward, her small nose scrunched.

Lyon was being aided by the medical technician who had cleaned and dressed his wound.

"Niovi," Lyon spoke forcefully, although his voice was wavered through the pain. "Niovi, what are you doing?!"

Finally, Niovi turned, her heliotrope eyes calculating a deep problem. When the scout spoke to the king, the voice that came out was the one from recent memories; it was her war voice. Her voice was used only in life or death situations.

There was a new problem, a new enemy, a new foe to face.

Niovi was calm, but entirely decisive, "We must summon the council. There has just been an assassination attempt."

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><p>After the unpleasant squabble of activity that ensued post Niovi's warning statement, Lyon had been led -or more so, enforced- to go to the infirmary to have his arm properly cleaned and looked after in the sterile room of the medical facility.<p>

The king had voluntarily taken sleep medicine, which rendered him entirely unconscious for a total of four hours. Within the previous twenty minutes, Lyon had escaped-literally-from the doctors care and discretely ascended the staircase which led to the hallway outside of the council room in the west wing of his stone palace. The citadel, which had been hewn entirely from stone, radiated a chill through his bones that was almost symbolic of the power the building and the people inside of it.

Within the second that Lyon reached the council room's recreational chamber, he was struck by something odd. The sprucely decorated walls, dotted with carvings of animals, had no sound to echo. It was empty. Had the members not been called to assemble? Should not there be activity taking place? Instead, their absence was emphasized by Lyon's echoing footsteps. Each sound, movement, and shuffle bounced around the sparse chamber.

Lyon rubbed the bandages wrapped around his right arm with his left hand. Uneasiness pressed him back as his will and curiosity drove him toward the curtained archway.

Tentatively, he gathered a handful and dragged the full indigo fabric aside, draping it around its own folds. The bright torchlight assaulted his sight, and after a few repetitive blinks, he adjusted and made eye contact with Niovi, who seemed to be the only one to be occupying the fully furnished room.

The silvery blond girl was seated at the end of a granite table, which was surrounded by an array of fourteen chairs, each for a destined for a specific person.

Ten of those chairs were representative of the original ten founders of Trent and their descendants, which were the ten divisions that split the capital city. The 11th and 12th seats were held for representatives of smaller, more remote clans that mainly controlled the major farming and cattle work. The thirteenth seat was just as average, but for the King or Queen of the time, and was placed at the head of the table, facing the entrance. The place directly to the right, sharing the head was for the advisor of the leader. The advisor was the only member who could not vote, therefore producing an odd number of 13 people to settle disputes and make decisions. All votes were tallied up by the advisor and majority ruled.

However, Niovi, who was Lyon's chosen advisor, was not doing council work. Trent's most reliable, dedicated, and clever scout was never one to sit in a slouched posture, with one arm throw on the table and the other moving quickly over parchment. However, Niovi was found crouched, one hand objectively placing word after word on the parchment, while the other arm was looped in front as if hoping to guard the ink scratches from prying eyes. Until a moment ago, her eyes had recorded the route of her hand. But now, the violet irises were locked with Lyon's.

"You are awake? And out of the hospital?" Niovi questioned, and then shook her head, causing her locks to flip over her shoulder. "Never you mind. I have just been worried. I should have assumed that you would not allow something this titanic to escape your investigation."

Standing, she led Lyon to the seat she had just evacuated.

"You need to rest. The wound was deep and you lost much blood." She paused, hands on the back of the chair, grinning a little. "Or at least that is what your hospital report said."

Lyon obeyed, as he was commanded. He reached his un-bandaged hand to drag Niovi's abandoned parchment closer. "What are you writing?" he questioned. However the moment his fingers brushed the end of the half sheet of parchment, the scout snatched the paper out of reach.

"Only a summary of the council meeting," She lied smoothly, folding the note in half as she slipped it into a black cloth shoulder bag that was lying on the table in a bunch. She slid the stationary into the same bag.

Lyon leaned back. The walk from the infirmary had drained him. Then he raised an eyebrow. The summary of a council meeting was written as the meeting progressed. Realizing Niovi was keeping the note private, Lyon inquired about the meeting.

Niovi relaxed her posture and took out the chair across from Lyon, beginning to relate the meeting. She flicked her straight elbow length silvery blond hair over her shoulder and crossed her legs, casually leaning back and averting her eyes; Lyon knew her focus was at its best when she looked at absolutely nothing.

Lyon also relaxed his formal body position as his advisor began.

"I left you in the hospital and sent the messengers to the councilor's apartments. It was difficult, but we managed to track and assemble them on short notice." Niovi shook her head then glanced, teeth in a grimace. "Are you alright, Lyon?"

"Fine, fine," Lyon was unnerved at Niovi's calmness, her ability to wait and gather information before jumping to a conclusion and bearing arms. Of course, Lyon got his need to take care of things at a moment's notice from- no. He cut himself off. "_I cannot think about her. I_ _need to focus on this and only this."_ "Continue." He spoke to Niovi.

She looked towards the door once again, her fingers tracing a pattern on her chair's arm. "Everyone was confused. I was able to gather the necessary members and I alerted them. I explained the previous hour with..." She paused, unsure of Lyon's reaction to naming the incident, but he just nodded to continue.

"With the assassination attempt, of course the more worrisome leaders panicked." Niovi rubbed her unfocused eyes. "They were all flustered, calling 'The poor king! Not him! He is so young!'" Niovi mimicked a distressed citizen, sliding her voice into a higher pitch, flailing her arms like a crazed animal who was angered by the lack of a necessity. Niovi snorted. "Ridiculous. But I explained it was just a shallow cut. You have suffered worse..." She glanced to his other arm, wincing as if witnessing a battle worn blade slicing his skin, leaving the thin pale marks that she now saw.

Lyon glanced to his own elbow, a blow from a hammer he received months ago had shattered the bone. However, with a quick thinking ingenious doctor, it had been restored to its normal form, despite a pale discoloration from where the weapon had torn the skin.

The newest sword wound was less painful, but it was much more horrifying. He had been attacked before, but not so personally. In the midst of the chaotic mass of fighting bodies that war permitted, the battles and wounds were less personal. But in the premise of his own home, near his family and friends…Lyon hid this carrying emotion, not to voice his weakness in a freak moment of distress.

He had to keep this from almost everyone, for if he were to release primeval fears, he would be deemed too young, too weak, and too selfish to be a good ruler. He would lose the throne and the city would lose the only individual who had any grasp of the situation, of all the situations. However, Lyon could trust Niovi.

"It..." he paused. Speaking a topic such as this, would reveal him entirely to her, something Lyon did before, in the same room, with a different, greatly trusted friend who was no longer involved with him.

He breathed deeply, memorizing how the air flowed in, then out, realizing he indeed, was alive, not something as entirely promising as it sounded.

"I am in charge...And it is nothing like it was before... Less people are at risk, only me. When have little intelligence on whoever did this, no motive, no idea of a way to react...All because we have no knowledge and knowledge is power, so no power." The King hung his head. "What a leader I am. Someone tries to assassinate me, and I do not know who, what, why, how..."

Niovi read his body language as he was born to do so. Open palms, face up on his mid-thighs, he was filled beyond capacity and devastatingly, utterly, alone. And he had chosen to share all this with her. Niovi knew how to cheer him up.

"Well, if you want power over this attempt, you want knowledge on him, correct?" She paused for a moment, watching as Lyon began to look alive again. "On the blade the assassin was using was a single piece of blond hair. I took the strand to one of the more...trusted and experienced scientists this afternoon."

Lyon immediately deflated in response. "That is it? A hair? What is one of our scientists going to do with it? We cannot tell who it came from."

"Or can we...?" Niovi stopped, unfocused her eyes into nothing once again. "The scientist already spoke to me, during your hospitalization. He said that the strand of hair is lighter than types we find from the city. People that were born in the city tend to have darker hair, from mixing heritages so much. This hair is purer in color. This person was from a pure line of family; one that married into the same tribe."

"So this assassin..."

"It came from one of the outer, farming tribes," Niovi confirmed cautiously, nodding, but retaining emotion until seeing Lyon's reaction.

Lyon snapped up, quickly. "Well that is that. WE will need to get a team, some flyers, supplies, and a group of fighters, including myself. We will have to go to this tribe."

"Lyon," Niovi warned, slowing creeping up out of her chair also. "Sit down. You cannot go. I am sorry. IF these people are mad, or angry, or revolting to the point that they would send someone to kill you, what will happen when you walk into their homes?"

Lyon sunk into the chair. "Well..."

"Plus, you are still unwell. Your arm will not be properly healed for a week or two."

Lyon slouched, running his left foot forward and backward, pushing against the ground; a nervous habit. He was conceiving a battle plan. "Alright, I will wait. A journey to the Ithacan tribe will be planned. That way, we will be able to have everything prepared. Nothing will surprise us, nor stop us. We will find whoever is behind this and stop them."

Niovi smirked. "Good plan, nice speech. Now, will you not be in need to give a speech to your subjects?"

Lyon groaned. Public appearances were the part of the kingship that he found the most daunting.

* * *

><p>Niovi paced along the darkest wall of the shrouded room. It was luxurious. But not Niovi's normal setting. She was the spying sort, and she preferred sneaking through alleys, crouching in hidden places. The red hues and black velvets were not her style, not her taste, and not her background.<p>

Niovi was a street rat. Born and bred. It was only due to a scheme that mixed her in with the wrong crowed, then the authorities, that she managed to dance along into the shadow of Lyon's high class world.

Niovi's street rat ears lead her to the curtained off balcony, only big enough for one flyer to land on. Aside from the minute side, it was place strategically hanging over the city, giving an optimum view. She could hear as anyone could the turbulent cheering of a massive crowd as Lyon finished his speech. An unfocused blur rose from the amphitheater, not too far away. The torch drew the figure into sharper view, as it approached the palace.

Niovi stepped back into the chamber, making room on the balcony for the flyer to land.

She once again took up her pacing in the shadows of the room, and listened diligently as the scrape of a flyer's claws rubbed against the stone. Lyon landed hard on the stone.

His voice was hoarse, and muffled through the curtained as he thanked the flyer. "Icarus, many thanks once again for the faithful service you have willingly provided for me. It is much appreciated."

"As always, King Lyon," The purr was less than a whisper. "Flying for you is no unpleasant task."

The two exchanged pleasantries, then farewells, as Niovi retreated to the shadows and halted her pacing.

Lyon parted the curtain with one hand, down the middle, and stepped through. The king sighed, pushing his hair off his forehead and keeping his eyelids shut. The solitary air of his own apartment was all he desired after a speech. But he knew that what he desired would not be given to him. And he knew who was taking that period of calm from him.

"Niovi," he called, not opening his eyes, but sinking into a chair across from the balcony and audibly groaning, rubbing his hands on his face. "How in the world did you get into my private chambers?"

"My king," Niovi teased, raising her pitch, but coming to crouch on the floor by the side of his chair, hands resting on one arm rest. "To believe that you would conceive the idea that I, a master scout, would display my skills, secret ways, and mischievous manners to you…why it is disheartening to me!"

Lyon opened his eyes for a moment, glaring at the sarcastic, playful tone of his advisor. She dropped her smile, and Lyon dropped his eyes again.

Niovi decided on a better topic. "How was your speech? I assume it went well. I could hear the crowd."

"It was fine. I did not do too much. I only needed to repeat my situation. I assured them I was well. Say that the investigation was well. We are ready to plan, and are in the process of gathering information. Everything was a lie, but that is what I must do to protect this city, to protect ourselves. It is necessary."

Niovi nodded, tensing her mouth. Whatever response she had for Lyon was halted by a shuffling at the door.

Regal, Lyon's grandfather, stood in the entrance. His beard hung gloomy, his clothes sagged. His cane was leaned even heavier upon. And his eyes were dull and clouded under the weight of horrific experiences.

The tension mounted. The last argument hung heavily between Lyon and his grandfather. The two had not amended their feelings toward each other, nor had they thought any more of what happened just a few short days ago. And perhaps that was what gave Regal the courage to cross the room. Niovi gathered herself out of Lyon's immediate zone, not wanting to see this interaction. Lyon stood up stiffly. The two men faced off.

Old versus young.

Wisdom versus action.

Stability versus passion.

Relying entirely on the actions of the assassin, Lyon and Regal collapsed into each other's arms.

The grief of possible loss brought trust and hope, promise and need into their hearts, gathering even more love for the other inside.

Niovi hated herself for witnessing this action, but the palpable emotional tension and relief flooded her system, stilling her thoughts, giving her courage to face darkness.

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><p>Neither of the men noticed when Niovi left the room, only lingering at the door for a moment, wishing she could be a part of the joy in a reunion of family. But she was an intrusion, and the embrace carried on long after the curtain swished shut behind her.<p>

The former father and the former son were seated across from each other, on the furniture of Lyon's room. Regal kept one hand gripping Lyon's shoulder the whole time, as if the old man was accustomed to loss, but needed reassurance of his grandson's physical proximity. The man began to speak tremblingly, careful not to scratch the sheet of metaphorically fragile glass that was left untouched between them.

"My son... I lost him and his wife twelve years ago. And nearly nine hours previous this day, I was touched with the fear of losing the next most important life to me."

Lyon could not respond, and only put his head in his hands and weep. None of it was very kingly, but it was human.

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><p>"I hate to break up your touching moment-well, hour- of forgiving each other, but Lyon, if you have forgotten; we have plans that pertain to the future of everyone." Niovi burst through Lyon's chambers, no reservations against interrupting the family's moment.<p>

Lyon was now seated next to Regal, leaning in toward him, and the older man was nodding and acknowledging what was being told to him. Lyon paused, and glared at Niovi. "I have not forgotten. I was, just now, telling Regal everything you told me."

"Good." Niovi circled around the two of them and dragged a light stone chair from the corner, forming a triangle with the already seated two. "Strategy-wise, who do you think we should bring? I was thinking that Kenton was necessary, just in case any of the rouge gnawers were seen again, so he could identify with them. Also, I wa-"

"Wait," Lyon interrupted. "Before I allow Kenton to come, I must gather more information on his late appearance. There has to be more to it. And then he has to be cleared by me, or else he gets booted off. I'll replace him with a newer recruit; give some experience to the ranks."

"I have nothing to object to that, but just to remind you, if there are any occurrences that resemble what happened to him, and you have deemed him to be replaced, then we will have no absolute answer to exactly the experience, understand?"

"Yessir. " Niovi could evoke a sir out of Lyon. Few others could.

"Regal, any objections?"

"I have nothing against your plan."

"Fine, I also thought that Creoles should be head of the troops; with his control, we might be able to gather the information that will lead us to the assassin."

"Wait a moment, Niovi," Lyon halted the quick talking girl, holding his hand up, leaning in. "Ever since Creoles was attacked and lost his leg, he has had trouble getting around, even with his crutch."

Niovi took no time in disputing this, "Then he will have to travel with his flyer; I would have thought you knew this would happen, considering you all travel with the bonds you have."

"I knew he would travel with Ilmatar, his bond, but he will still be restricted as a leader. He will not be able to travel with the men to do whatever must be done!"

His scout, though, was able to out maneuver him with her usual swiftness. "Oh Lyon, hush. You are his friend. You know that he will come, do not delay the inevitable."

The king tried to take as little offence a possible when it came to this. Lyon put his thoughts aside and changed topics.

"Fine, Creoles will come, and he will be in charge of Military affairs. Who will lead the intelligence?"

Niovi rocked back, running her knuckles under her jaw, positioning her head purposely against the chair's back. Her straight hair flopped over her shoulder as she spoke again. "Well, I will, since I am, you know, your scout. And your advisor."

It was Lyon's turn to take the lead. "Good. You will be in charge of the intelligence...Here."

Niovi's only response was to lift an eyebrow, and set her posture into an aggressive manner, arms crossed, straight back. "I am coming, Lyon."

"No. I need someone to help Regal on the throne. He has not been leading for a long time. You are used to assisting me with the process, you will now help Regal."

"I object to this. The people do not trust me."

"They trust Regal. You will be needed for the unique perspective and ability to gather information, and Regal will have the trust of the citizens and the experience on the throne. I shall expect quite the business from you two."

"Again, I object to this. It is a horrible mistake to leave me here. And out of personal caring for you, I would rather be by your side."

Lyon was ready to refute his advisor, but Regal thought it was appropriate for him to cut the uneasiness and tension in the room.

"Lyon, Niovi, hush. I must remind you, acting on your emotions in a time of war is not only dangerous to yourself, but to everyone. Lyon, as the leader, will make decisions that you might wish to...disobey, Niovi. But you must remember, even as his advisor, his word is final."

"I understand, Regal. I just am trying to assure that the decision is the best. I apologize for any disrespect." A good advisor and a better street rat, Niovi knew how to behave and when to put her head down.

"Good. Now, Lyon. What do you wish to do about Demetria? I would watch her diligently. But as she has gone with you on travels in the past, if you wish to take her, I am sure Jolyeen would not object to giving up the comforts of the castle to watch her when you go to the outer tribe."

It was clear that Regal was leading the planning, but it was perhaps for the best, as he was the most experienced. "I do not wish it to turn like it has in the past, when those who are against me go after Demetria to hurt me. To be proactive...I think I will bring her with me."

"With that settled, I will contact Jolyeen. Niovi, finalize plans with Lyon. I trust you two." Regal stood slowly, and left the room to hunt down the sitter.

The silence left off. "Well," Lyon tried to lift the business to be finished. "I suppose the supplies are left. Or maybe we should bring some of the scouts that went with Kenton. That way, we will have their experiences..."

Niovi had made intense eye contact with him. "You know what Regal spoke of, with emotion running actions in war time... I care for you, Lyon. I know I am naught but a friend to you. But Lyon, you are more to me. Know that. I will leave you now. Do not look for me. I will remain here. As you wish." She got up, left, and Lyon was left to sigh. His life...It was Quite An Unnerving Prospect.

[*] Pronounced Ne-oh-v

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><p><strong>Thank you, everyone for reading. Thank you for the 90 or so reviews. My heart melts each time I read one. Literally, it is goop inside my chest. <strong>

**One small note, I now own a laptop. This shall greatly increase my writing quality and speed. I love it. 'Tis my baby. **

**Thank you, Thank you, Thank you! Happy New Year and Happy Holidays! **

**~AssassinAuthor**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

**Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and Happy Holidays.**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 17: Time for a Visit<span>**

When she closed her eyes, the sensation was so similar to one in her past, that Stephany mentally transferred herself into that memory. She imagined the white misty vapors swirling in the darkness with an undulating ease, the previously dry air morphing to gain more moisture, and rocky walls expanding at a gradual pace. Steph's eyes remained shut as she counted the seconds, timing the fall.

With her mind focused elsewhere, Steph guarded herself from the instinctual thoughts that pulsed against her concentration. Her thoughts were of 'W_hat if he lied?' _and _'How will I find my way to the palace?' _and_ 'How will I be greeted?' _ were a constant distraction. But Stephany pushed them away; she had to stay resolute and ready to land, because once her descent ended and she was on her own, she would be in danger.

_ '147 Mississippi…148 Mississippi…149 Mississippi…150 Mississippi,'_ Stephany opened her eyes as the currents blew less, the mist thinned, and the darkness grew thicker. Manipulating her legs to bend and her hands to hit the ground palms down, she crouched midair. Still counting, she heard a light thump when she reached _165_. Shutting her eyes- although there was no difference due to the darkness- she took a deep breath and landed at exactly _180_.

Stephany's right ankle tinged at the impact, enunciated by her grunt. She rolled over her right shoulder and sat with her knees bent toward the distant cavern roof. Brushing the bits of gravel off her hands, she pulled the small backpack that landed just to her left closer towards her. Steph fumbled with the zipper, locating it with trouble in the dark, and pulled open the front pocket. She pulled out a heavy duty flash light and zipping the bag shut again, she flicked the high beam on, pointing it away from herself. Blinking at the sudden brightness the thick ray outpoured, she stood up and slung the pack over her shoulder. With the flash light in her right hand, she casted the beam around, and saw her surroundings clearly for the first time.

The pockmarked walls were layered with brown and graying hues, and while moisture hung thick in the air, nothing condensed on the stone. Several dark outcroppings sprouted from the floor and walls, hinting at tunnels leading out of the apartment sized chamber Steph had fallen into. Apprehensive to start moving in the right direction, she lowered her light to the ground, scanning each exit for clues that would tell her in what direction to leave.

Only having slight skills in tracking, Stephany had to rely on common sense and a compass to choose and navigate her route. Recalling the minimal directions she had been able to gather, Steph headed through the northern most tunnel for a few yards, walking briskly even steps, ready to run or halt at a moments need. The passage way was relatively straight, without any additional entrances branching off, however, after four and a half minutes- as Stephany counted it -the tunnel caved in. She turned back and headed in the opposite direction, returning to the original chamber.

The next exit she went through was angled slightly north east, and were more narrow then she would have liked, forcing her to angle her body and slow her pace. Twenty or so yards in, it widened to an antechamber that was fourteen feet wide, which dipped down a few feet, the gravely shore slopping to a small pool with water. Reaching another dead end, Steph reverted to the first chamber.

Back where she started, Stephany decided to take a more practical decision. Aiming the flashlight at the third of the four north exits, she scanned the ground.

The third tunnel had layers of bedrock that were similar to the ones around it, but as she crouched and rubbed her hand over the looser top layer, she realized that there was a path. Stephany could hardly make out the distinction, but rushing to the tunnel to the right of it- the one that led to the antechamber- she realized there was clearly a tread worn into the ground. A very slight over usage of this particular tunnel and the direction it was located in was enough to convince Stephany to push aside any resignations and follow the path, hoping it would lead her to the correct destination.

Stephany's cautiously brisk pace was gone after she had spent twenty minutes in the tunnel. Someone was following her, and by the sound of it, whoever it was certainly was not friendly. She jogged along now, her breath coming in gasps, the humidity clouding her skin and making her sweat. Her flash light's beam bounced on the walls of the tunnel as she ran, causing the shadows to jump and duck as she passed, only increasing her anxiousness.

Whatever was on her tail had the advantage of knowing the area. It seemed to be a faster predator. The only defense Stephany had was an old pocket knife. Despite the disadvantages, Stephany sprinted at a breakneck pace, determined to survive. A sudden turn in the corridor resulted with Steph turning at the last second and ramming her shoulder into the stone wall. She stumbled back a few steps grabbing at her left shoulder and cursing. Steph hunched over, panting and allowing herself to rest for a moment, then turned and leaned against the wall, alleviating pressure from her tight calf muscles and aching feet. After swallowing a few gulps of air, she heard scratching. It was close, whatever was chasing her. The noise skittered and bounced off the walls. Steph's eyes grew wide as she pointed her flashlight down the tunnel, continuing her escape, only to see a second sharp turn up ahead.

Pushing off the wall, Stephany jogged to the next turn, and down the one immediately afterwards. Before she knew it, Steph was rushing down twists and bends, stopping short to avoid running into walls again. As she navigated her way through the passages, one thing she realized was positive was that there were no offshoot tunnels or antechambers. She never had to stop and debate which turn to make. However that argument was little compensation for the fact that she could now hear the creature's ragged breathing following her. She continued running, pulling one her right arm out of the strap of the pack, swung the bag to her left, stuck her right arm in the left strap and her left arm in the right strap so that the part of the back pack that was supposed to rest against her back was pressed against her chest. She used her left hand to unzip the pack, stuck her hand in and grabbed the pocket knife. She reversed her backpack to its original position and flicked open the knife, knowing that retrieving it had cost her a few seconds by being distracted.

Out of breathe once again, and almost out of time, she cast the beam in an arc in front of her, towards a particularly dark section of rocks that grew closer as she pounded forward. The beam, instead of separating rock and shadow, was undulating in a motion that almost seemed whatever it happened to be resting on was alive. Uncertain of what was different with this section of rock, but certain that there was no other way with the creature chasing her gaining every moment, she hooked her left arm over her face and charged the rippling section in the rocks, tensing at the last moment and grunting as she expected impact.

Stephany might have been expecting to run through a weak section of the tunnel and into another passageway continuing on somewhere. However, what she did not expect was to burst through the moving wall- which turned out to be the many wings of insects that brushed softly over her bare skin-be blinded by torchlight, surrounded by raised stone bleachers, arranged in a circle coliseum style, filled with hundreds of people cheering and chanting with their eyes cast up and heads tilted back towards the massively high stone ceiling, focusing on a cluster of multicolored giant bats with pale-skinned riders decked out in protective gear passing a leather ball to each other.

What was unexpected for the crowd and the group of players was that when the ball was tossed to a rider on a golden bat, that the rider would have already spotted the dark haired intruder who was not able to stop her inertia until she was in the center of the arena. Also, the rider would have caught the ball that was tossed from one of her teammates, but did not because of her distraction, missed the throw, where it hit her on the back of her head, knocking her from her mount, and since she was only ten feet off the ground, the bat could not flip around and catch the rider. The expected thing that did happen was for the rider to hit the ground with her left shoulder and roll off it into a crouch.

Stephany was oblivious to the crowd, to the gasps and screams. The reactions never even reached her ears. She was deaf to them because in that moment she was living through an emotional tumult far more dramatic then the crowd's.

Everything that was happening around Stephany blurred as she swiveled around, fast at first then turned slower the second time, taking in the stone structures, the gigantic creatures, the pale skinned people with violet eyes, the torches placed strategically to give the most light, and she collapsed.

Steph dropped to her knees, sitting back on her heels, absentmindedly stroking the springy moss of the arena, slugging off her back pack and dropping the flashlight. She was dumbstruck, mumbling, "I am here. I am here again. I made it. It's still here. It's not the same but it is, oh it so is."

She laughed in disbelief and tears clouded her dark eyes. She bit her lip and laughed again. Putting her elbows on her knees, Steph ran her hands all over her face and through her hair. Then standing up, once the crowd's reaction penetrated her emotional turmoil, she saw the light haired rider sitting on the arena's floor, propping herself up, and rubbing her sore shoulder. The rider had a golden circlet wrapped around her head and her hair was braided to a point on the middle of her back. Stephany composed herself instantly and walked over, her posture sure; back straight, chin high, shoulders back, and eyes cautious. A medical team dressed in white who had rushed from the crowd towards the rider, hopping down the seven foot wall, was waved away as the girl's purple eyes stayed wide.

The crowd hushed themselves, anxiously witnessing Steph steadily advance to the fallen rider. Stephany halted a few steps away from her and knelt, her right foot planted on the ground, kneeling on her left knee. She bowed her head deeply, hands folded on her knee.

When she raised her head, eyes complexly emotional, Stephany's words were only for the fallen rider. "Pardon me, Queen Luxa," her voice was steady. "I am here to visit you."

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><p><strong>This is an unedited snippit of what I wrote during NaNoWriMo. Also, please reread the fic. I had to delete the previous chapter to fix plot holes. The story is changing.<strong>

**~AssassinAuthor**


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